Innocence Lost
by coffeeonthepatio
Summary: A man – boy - who lost his innocence in young years. Turning into a spy for the love of his life. To her, he is a Death Eater, and a spy. Then he becomes Severus. And she, she becomes Tisiphone – then Tizzy.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters you might recognise from JK Rowling's books. I don't make any money with this story but write solely for my pleasure and hopefully, the pleasure of you, my readers. **_

_**xx**_

It was the most difficult step of his life. He shivered and he trembled and his head felt as if it was full of cotton wool. Or maybe water. Or maybe it was empty.

He just followed the old man. The man who promised to help. He would hide her. Keep her safe.

He was willing, yes, to give anything in return. A Vow, if he had to. And he would have to. At this moment, entering that castle behind him, he would give his life for her to be safe.

"This way, if you remember," the old man said and he followed, his head hung low and his hair, greasy and wet, blocked his view. He couldn't think, merely walked, up some stairs, across a corridor and he barely noticed where he was going. No, he did not remember the way.

He heard the old man saying a word, or maybe two, but he could not listen. He heard everything as if his head was underwater, everything from very far away and he merely followed. Still followed. And if it cost him his life to keep her safe.

His beautiful Lily. Dumbledore had to keep her safe. He did not trust the Dark Lord any more. Not when he promised to spare her. Especially not then. He had seen too many of those, he had promised to spare, dead. Bodies twisted, lifeless on the ground, eyes staring up soullessly. He couldn't trust him. Couldn't trust that being that had tortured him with high-pitched laughter  
because he cared for a Mudblood.

No – it had to be this way. He had no choice. Now that the Dark Lord knew that he cared about her, he would not be allowed to set another toe out of line. His life was at stake.

Not that it mattered any more. But here, in this castle, in this presence, he could at least be sure that Lily was protected. Even if he was not. Even if he had forfeited his life.

"Sit down, Severus," the old man said and through his lank hair, he saw him pointing at a chair and it took him a moment to understand that he was whom was meant by 'Severus' and that he was supposed to sit down.

He did not dare to look up when he shoved his hand into the pockets of his nondescript black robes and pulled out his wand. Unsteadily, he put it on the desk in front of him. He saw the old man moving and noticed from the corner of his eye how he stood next to him and watched numbly as he pulled something from his pocket as well.

He didn't care what it was. He didn't care as long as the old man knew that he had to protect her. That he knew now.

He could go back to the Dark Lord. Do something foolish. Trying to protect another Muggleborn. That way, the Crucios would be bad – and the Killing Curse long coming but coming for sure.

He swallowed. He had thought life would be different after joining in the ranks of the Dark Lord. He had hoped for a better life. And it wasn't. On the contrary. It didn't matter what happened to him.

"Take one," the old man said firmly – and it almost sounded as if he repeated the phrase.

He looked up – just as far up that he could see the hand which held a tin. A tin full of candy.

"Sherbet Lemon, Severus," he said kindly. "I will send for some food as well."

He did not want a Sherbet Lemon. He wanted Lily safe. Why didn't the old man understand that?

"I don't want food. I want you to make sure she's protected," he looked up defiantly.

"She will be, Severus. But I can't let my spy starve," he said kindly and somehow, those words reached something inside of him – it stopped a part of the numbness and it felt as if he had resurfaced from whatever liquid his head and his ears and his eyes and been engulfed in.

"A sp-spy?" he stuttered and for the first time, met the old man's eyes. He had heard of Legilimency, had heard of the art of looking into someone's memories, seeing deep-buried secrets, longings, hopes and dreams. Things consciously long forgotten. Seeing someone's thoughts. He had heard rumours that the Dark Lord was employing this technique. And the Dark Lord had cautioned them. Had explained that Evil Wizard of the Light was applying this as means to change someone's mind. Had cautioned never to make eye-contact. Had said there was no other way around it.

But if the old man needed to see his wish to save her – his Light – then he would submit to his demand. He looked into blue, twinkling eyes. Shining like the Light he symbolised. Not the Dark his represented.

"Yes," the old man said in a kind voice. "And first, we have to teach you the art of Occlumency."

He had never heard the term before and he shook his head barely perceptibly.

"All in due time, Severus. For now, I just would like you to take a Sherbet Lemon, then take one of the sandwiches the elf will bring up."

"I'm willing to give my Vow," he said voicelessly but the old man shook his head again.

"I would like your word. No Unbreakable or other Vow."

"But..."

"No, Severus. I trust you and your wish to do everything that lays in your power to protect Lily and her family," he said sternly and for a moment, the twinkle in his eyes was gone. So he did see his thoughts. He was willing.

"I want to give the Vow," he repeated but again, the old man shook his head.

"No, my boy. I will not allow it. You will work for our side. You will master the art of Occlumency. And by that, you will keep her safe."

He shook his head. "Let me."

"Your life might be in danger such as it is. I will not add to that unnecessarily," he said.

"I am however, sad that you are not willing to trust me. Well," his tone seemed to lighten considerably, "we will give it time. Eat now," he pointed at a plate full of sandwiches, "and we will talk about the rest later."

Hesitantly, he took one and bit in it. His stomach, he found now, growled and hurt, but all of it tasted – bland. Like cardboard. However, it filled his stomach and it would make the old man explain. And it would make this horrible night end quicker. It would make the darkness end.

He did not understand why the old man would not take his Vow. It would give him and his side – their side – security.

But maybe – perhaps – the old man had seen in his mind what he did not dare fully admit to himself yet. Maybe – perhaps – the old man had seen that he was revolted by what the Dark Lord expected them to do, by what they had to do. Thoughts he had hidden – from himself – and maybe – perhaps– by doing that, hiding them from the Dark Lord himself.

Maybe the old man had seen this. And trusted him.

Trusted him.

xx

19. Almost 19 anyway. And she stood there and had to beg the bloody Gargoyle to let her up to her Uncle's office.

"Maltesers," she huffed angrily.

"No."

"Chocolate Buttons."

"No."

"Just let me up. You know who I am. You've known me for almost 19 years," she shouted at the bloody stone idiot.

"No."

She stomped her foot. "Mars Bars," she tried.

The Gargoyle shook its head lazily.

"Just let me up there, I have to talk to him, please," she tried whining. But the Gargoyle only chuckled and she stomped her foot again – and let out a low, angry growl. Mother didn't know she was here and she better not be caught by Filch again. Or by Mum. Or by anyone. She didn't really fancy being told off. Again. And she had a good reason to be there. She heard Alb talk to Dad and to Mum. She knew what was going on. She read. She knew. And she wanted to be there. And they wouldn't let her. As if she was a little girl. She was 19, for Merlin's sake. 19! Not 12 any more. She huffed – loudly.

"I'll blast you to pieces," she pulled her wand from her pocket and pointed it at the stone figure.

"We are in a tizzy, aren't we?" the Gargoyle sneered and she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Haha," she grumbled. "Very funny." She watched the Gargoyle as it laughed and she knew her face had that very unbecoming expression again – when she looked like Mother and her lips were too thin and – no. She forced her face back into a neutral position though she truly hated the pun. And from a Gargoyle as well! Gargoyles were supposed to be silent and just stand there, or hang there but not this one. Never this one. No, this one, she called him Bob when he was too annoying, pulled faces, talked to her and generally bothered her every time she tried to see her Uncle without Mother or Father.

"Popcorn!" she shouted – and when the Gargoyle grimaced and revealed the spiral staircase, she sent him a grin, cried a "Thank you, Bob," in his direction and with her wand still in her hand, ran up the stairs. Her favourite sport when she had been a girl – it always made her nicely dizzy. It still did, even though she hadn't run up in a while. But after the news she had heard just earlier when Mum had flooed Dad and she had been, well, listening, and the delay by the Gargoyle, she was in a hurry.

She knocked lightly on the door but without waiting for an answer, she pushed it open and was glad that her wand was in her hand and at the ready.

Here was her chance to prove herself. To show that she could fight.

There was a Death Eater in her Uncle's office. Just like that. Sitting there, revealing the Dark Mark on his forearm and Alb was bending oddly over him, and she could only see his back, keeling over the dark-haired man. In long strides, she was standing behind the man and had the tip of her wand pressed against the side of his neck.

"Let him go," she growled and shoved it deeper in.

"Tizzy?" Alb straightened and with a wave of his hand, had the man's arm covered by his sleeve again.

"He's a Death Eater," she exclaimed and had her wand still there, pushed against his skin.

Her Uncle looked at her and moved to her side, took her hand in his and pulled the wand effectively away from the man. She looked at Alb and of course he smiled gently. "Tizzy, this is Severus Snape. Severus, this is Tisiphone Dumbledore, my niece."

The man looked up but did not meet her eyes and nodded briefly before he lowered his head again and greasy lank locks of hair covered his features and glared at her Uncle. "Alb! He's a Dea..."

"Tizzy, please," the twinkle, the always present twinkle in his eyes disappeared and he wore that face he had last worn when she had tried to pluck one of Fawkes's feathers when she had been five. "He is here for a reason and if you open your eyes, you will see his wand on the desk."

She glanced at the desk and there was a wand. Not her Uncle's wand. She closed her eyes for a moment only and tried to sort her thoughts. Death Eater with that ugly, evil thing on his arm. Sitting there like a lump. Wand on the table. And Alb probably having bent over to talk to him.

"What's going on?" she asked – not quite yet understanding. Was he a spy? Or someone who sought refuge? Or – someone Alb had taken captive? Wasn't that the Aurors' job?

"Get your mother, please," her Uncle said almost sternly and he had a hand on the man's shoulder. Severus Snape, that was what he had said, wasn't it? Didn't ring a bell. But it seemed at least Alb knew him. Could have been a student there. His head snapped up and tried to look at him, but since he was behind him, he couldn't.

But it gave her a chance to look at him. He was young. Not much older than herself. Dark eyes, dark hair, rings around his eyes, a hooked nose that looked like it had been broken more than once, thin, bloodless lips. And he was pale. Very, very pale. He looked quite – afraid.

"Tisiphone!" her Uncle snapped his fingers in her face. "Go get your mother now."

She rolled her eyes, pocketed her wand and went running. Towards her Mother's quarters. The place where she lived now as well with her and Dad. She didn't mind living in the castle. She had lived there for the first ten years of her life, before going to St. Augustus's School. Had fought at first and had wanted to be educated at Hogwarts. But no, with Mum teaching there and Alb the Headmaster, Mother and Father had not allowed it. They had said, and she still remembered the words clearly as if they had been spoken barely half an hour ago, that it was best for her to not be there – to not be taught by her own Mother. And so she had gone to St. Augustus's. The only all girls' Wizarding school in the entire world.

But now, the NEWTs secured, she had returned home. Had so wanted to fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And once more, Dad and Mum and Alb had forbidden it. Stupid adults still thought she was a girl.

xx

He barely noticed the wand pressed into the side of his neck. He barely noticed that there was someone else in the room until the old man said his name and he looked up briefly to someone whose name he didn't catch. Tis-something. A young woman. His niece.

But he was more focused and replayed the old man's lecture in his head. Lily would be kept safe, and he himself was expected to stay on at Hogwarts. Had to teach potions. Had to go back to the Dark Lord and had to tell him that he had applied to the post of Defence against the Dark Arts position. Had to learn Occlumency, which would help him shield his true thoughts from the Dark Lord. Would more effectively hide his disgust at what the Dark Lord expected him to do. Would return to all his summons. Had looked in all detail at his Dark Mark but had not dared to touch it. Had merely looked. And he had not been able to look at the black thing on his arm. Had not looked at it for months, really.

And he had nodded at everything. He was good at potions. Didn't care whether he stayed at Hogwarts or the hole his parents had left him. Would definitely not be a good teacher but who cared? As long as she was safe. He would even train dragons if it helped keeping her safe. Would learn Occlumency.

He noticed the old man telling him to get her mother and that made him look up again and he tried to look at him but he had his hands on his shoulders and stood behind him. But he could look at her again. She reminded him of someone but he was too tired, too exhausted to think about who she resembled. She had dark hair, long, wavy, flowing to her mid-back, bright blue eyes, was tall and thin and her wand was in her hand. Her robes were long, with wide sleeves in dark, dark green. He didn't know who her mother was, naturally, hadn't even known the old man had a niece, or siblings, but he was sure of the fact that he did not want another person there.

The young woman darted away from the office and he let his eyes rest on his wand at the desk while the old man had his hands still on his shoulders and continued to speak softly.

"We will keep you safe here even when you go back to him. I have seen what he does to his Death Eaters, Severus, and I think it's best if we bring you to Madame Pomfrey as soon as possible. But I think it would be best if we at least tell my Deputy why you are here. I don't think anyone else should know, do you? Tizzy, of course, does know but she knows how to keep a secret. And my brother is not to be feared. And in case someone else should ever find out, we need another witness that you came to our side before the end of Voldemort."

He flinched upon hearing that name. None of those people that he had been in contact with in the last two, three years had ever said his name. It was forbidden, even his most loyal followers knew that they would suffer severely should they speak it.

And who was the Deputy? Couldn't be Melanole, his former Astronomy teacher and Deputy when he had been at Hogwarts. He knew for a fact that Martin Melanole was dead. Blood traitor.

For a moment, a shiver went through his body and he pressed his arms tightly to his sides.

"There is no need to be afraid, Severus, my boy. We will keep you safe," he said gently and squeezed his shoulders.

"Keep her safe," he croaked.

"We will keep her safe as well. But you need to be safe to do your job and to keep her safe."

xx

"Mum!" she yelled, storming into their quarters and found her Mother sitting in an armchair, reading.

"Tizzy, what's wrong?" she looked up and squinted. She had told her Mother time and time again to get her eyes checked, that she needed glasses, but no. Minerva McGonagall was too vain to wear glasses.

"Alb wants you to come to his office. There's a, erm, young man sitting there and, well, I don't really know what he's doing there, since of course I'm too young to know things and Alb doesn't tell me but wants you there."

"Don't call him Alb, Tizzy. I've told you it is very unbecoming," she scolded mildly but got up and stood before her, smiling one of her rare, full smiles and touched her cheek gently. "I know you don't like the situation, but dear, we want you safe. You do not know what he's capable off. But you do know that you're a target. Tisiphone, please."

"But..." Tizzy huffed but Mother of course, only shook her head and the smile vanished. As it did every time Tizzy protested. But her Mother was always so overprotective. One day, she knew, she would just go and leave Hogwarts and fight. And they couldn't stop her. But as long as those bloody wards existed, she couldn't.

Yes, yes, she knew she was a target. But it wasn't her fault that Albus Dumbledore was her Uncle. It wasn't her fault that Minerva McGonagall was her Mother and it wasn't her fault that Aberforth Dumbledore was her Father. She could fight as well as them and they wouldn't even let her into that Order-thingy. She was of age. She could fight.

But oh no – Little Tizzy had to be kept locked in.

She sighed. Well, they were worried and she understood that. To a certain extent. Understood that her parents and her Uncle wanted her alive. But what they didn't see was that she would stay alive. Even if she fought.

"Tizzy, I have to go," she pressed a kiss on her forehead and brushed the back of her fingers over her cheek.

"I'm coming with," she said deviantly.

"Tizzy," Mum sighed but she only grinned, shrugged and linked her arms with hers.

"At least let me do that, please?"

Mum sighed again but nodded.

Tizzy knew she just won a small victory. Just a little one but usually, Mum, Dad and Alb always kept her from knowing anything about the War. She wasn't even supposed to know about the Order though Alb and Mum and Dad had founded the thing. In this case it was really fortunate that they seemed to underestimate her most of the time. Could get through the Charms they cast on doors so easily, really. Still, to let her be with them when they talked and finding out who that Severus-Snape-person was – victory!

xx

"Severus Snape!" he heard a familiar voice through the mist that had settled into his ears again, his eyes steady on his wand. He had to prove that he was on their side now. That he would spy. But the old man was right. Another person there, a witness and he could give his Oath. Not an Unbreakable but he could word his Wizard's Oath that it acted as an Unbreakable. And he knew the words he would speak when he suddenly heard his name spoken by the familiar voice and he looked up.

And there, bent down to him, and fixing him with her green eyes was the reason why the young woman, standing a little behind next to the old man, seemed familiar.

So she was Deputy now. A school reigned by Gryffindors.

But Lily was a Gryffindor. And it was for Lily. He was there because of Lily. And he had to prove it. His hand inched closer to the wand on the desk when the Deputy Headmistress talked to him. He barely heard her and it didn't matter what she said.

"Albus, we have to get him to Poppy, he's completely out of it," he heard her say when his hand touched his wand. "Was he like this all the time?"

He moved quickly, lifted the wand and pointed it on his own chest and he spoke, quickly before the old man could interrupt. "I swear upon my life that I stand and fight against the Dark until the day I die."

_**xx**_

_**Please review and let me know whether you'd like me to continue!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

_**A big, heartfelt thanks to Alabaster Princess for her encouragement and checking for mistakes!**_

_**xx**_

She stood a little behind Mum and Alb and stared at the young man. His words rang in her ears. He swore on his life. With his wand pointed at his chest. A Wizard's Oath. And his wording had been so perfect that it would act almost like an Unbreakable Vow. She was equally shocked and frankly speaking, impressed. A Death Eater that had so much will-power, was so convinced to switch sides to actually make sparks fly from his wand while swearing on his life.

Death Eater spy. Absolutely for sure or that poor young man would die. He suddenly appeared that much more interesting. The sparks vanished in the folds of his black robes and he put it gently back onto the desk – then, things happened quickly.

Alb radiated anger. She saw his head sideways and he was furious. There was no twinkle in his eyes, his mouth was pinched tightly and the hem of his outrageously purple robes with the flying owls on there fluttered around him. That was an unmistakable sign. Had last seen it when Dad had been in the paper last because of some so-called scandal because of Dad's goats. She hadn't quite understood. But that was when he had last been that angry. And that had ended with a duel between Dad and Alb. She had been little back then, maybe 7 or 8. And it was only because of Mum that those two, sometimes, talked to one another. And only if it was about that Order-thingy. But that was when he had last been that angry.

And that anger was now directed at that poor Severus Snape bloke now. And he seemed utterly unimpressed – just slumped over now in that chair.

Suddenly, Mother jumped forward and Tizzy grimaced. She knew exactly what was coming now. And yes, right on the spot, Severus Snape had received the McGonagall-clip on the ears.

"Are you daft, boy?" she said very, very quietly. And very, very quiet was dangerous. Loud and yelling was a quick flare of temper that was over before it had begun. Clipping and quiet meant true anger. And she knew that if Mum's eyes sparkled dark green, he was in immediate danger of receiving another clip on the ears. But she could not see her eyes and Mother straightened. "Are you absolutely insane?" she spoke softly and angrily, and her hands were on her hips. "Do you know what you just did?"

Tizzy even felt as if she should shake her head. Or nod. She wasn't sure which. It was clear that Alb and Mum were not impressed. And well, it had been a stupid thing to do. Impressive but stupid.

"Did I not tell you explicitly that I do not want a vow?" Alb began – and he boomed and there were almost sparks flying from his hair and his beard. She truly did not want to be in Severus Snape's shoes at the moment. Both Mum and Alb being angry was scary for everyone. Even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would probably be afraid for a second or two once those two got started on him.

"This is about trust, Severus Snape," he thundered but that bloke merely sat there, eyes on his shoes. And she had to admit that this was probably the only position one could get through one of those outbursts.

It seemed, however, that Mum understood the situation a little bit quicker and she touched Alb's arm. "Albus, this makes no sense," she said quietly, "he is in shock now."

Her Uncle turned around and glared, for a moment only, at Mum before he nodded reluctantly and turned to her. "Tizzy would you get Poppy, please?"

She nodded quickly, it was better to be obedient in such situations, let them see that she was reliable, and with a last glance at Severus Snape, she rushed from the Headmaster's office and down the corridor. He had been truly out of it. Had probably drained himself even more while taking the Oath.

It was so like Alb to be angry at him for not trusting him. Trust was the one big issue for her Uncle. And apparently, he took the Oath as a sign that there was no trust between them. And no, of course there couldn't be. Though, it seemed that Alb trusted that man. Why she didn't know but he usually knew. Alb was that way. Annoying, really. And he always knew when you told the truth or not. Very, very annoying when she had been a child. And during the summers. And now. Very, very annoying. And apparently, he knew something about the bloke that made the Oath, or a Vow, despite the fact that he was obviously a Death Eater with the Mark on his arm, and that meant clearly that her Uncle interpreted his giving his Oath as not trusting him.

And that was not good. Definitely not good. Poor bloke. She didn't envy him in the least.

She ran down the stairs and knocked on the door to the private quarters of Poppy. She would fix him. Only, Tizzy would not tell her he was a defected Death Eater. She wasn't sure that would be her place to tell, and a, more than that, smart move on the whole to tell just about anyone that he was, or had been, a follower of You-Know-Who.

"Tizzy?" the nurse opened her door a crack, and apparently, she had caught her just about as she was going to bed. It wasn't that late, was it? She was quickly tempted to look at her silver pendant watch but it seemed rude to do so in front of her.

"There's someone in Albus's office and he needs your help," she said quickly.

"I'll be right there," she closed the door to her rooms again and Tizzy stood there, unsure what to do. However, now it would not be rude to see what time it was and lifting the pendant up and opening it, she was astonished to see that it was after twelve at night already. Hadn't thought it was that late.

And to be honest, she wasn't sure whether she shouldn't just go home. She surely didn't want that anger directed at her but Poppy reappeared quickly, only her white robes thrown over the nightgown and she ushered her forward.

xx

He had felt the Oath settled in himself and knew that now he would be believed. And that now, he did not have a choice but to die. Sooner or later. Not because he broke his Oath, but because the Dark Lord would find out. And he had seen what happened to traitors. Maybe, he would be angry. When he was angry, it would be quick. When he wasn't, it wouldn't be. Not that he thought he was high enough in the ranks to warrant death at the hands of Him. He would probably leave it to Bellatrix Lestrange. And then, nothing would be quick. The Cruciatus Curse would not be quick and the Killing Curse would be long coming. He would suffer at the hands of her, definitely. If he was lucky, it wouldn't be Madame Lestrange. If he was lucky, it would be the old Malfoy. Abraxas Malfoy hated traitors and he made quick work of them. But that was very, very unlikely.

It just was the way it was. And he had just sealed his own fate. He heard someone speaking to him and felt a crackling of magic in the air and something on his ears but it was all so far away. So very, very far away.

He stared at the floor but the large stones blurred and it was all a mass of grey in front of his eyes and he felt very tired. He knew there was a lot of work he would have to do in the next couple of days. He could not go back to the Dark Lord, the old man had said, until he had learned the art of Occlumency. And he had to bring his things from Spinner's End to Hogwarts. And he had to make sure that the old man kept Lily safe.

Keeping Lily safe. That was important. Everything else he didn't care about.

He knew Professor McGonagall was still there and talked quietly to the old man. He couldn't hear them. And he didn't care what they said. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier and his vision blurred further and he didn't want to stay awake any more. It would be better to just drift away to sleep. To forget that Lily was in such grave danger for a moment. Even if he had nightmares about it, he just wanted to forget for a moment.

To forget. He let his eyes drop closed and his head fall further forward.

_**xx**_

_**Thank you for reading and reviewing. **_

_**You have a choice, really – shorter chapters like this one more often or longer chapters not that often? Please let me know!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**Thanks to Alabaster Princess for helping (and distracting and being in my head)**_

_**xx**_

He blinked. There were eyelids that had to be opened but they didn't feel as part of himself, as part of his body, and they were basically only things that let him see orange-reddish light somehow. He wasn't sure where he was, there was no noise around, no neighbours hoovering or arguing or their TV sets doing full blast. It was eerily silent and he tried to remember, piece together, the day before.

The Hog's Head. He remembered that. But no, that had been a few weeks, months ago. A few weeks when he had gone back to tell the Dark Lord that Dumbledore did not want him as a Defence against the Dark Arts instructor.

And the Dark Lord being angry at first. And then as happy as a someone like him can be upon hearing that part of the prophecy. And the Cruciatus Curse had lasted shorter than usual and he had fallen back into the ranks of an inferior Death Eater. Bringing the Prophecy had been enough to save his life, probably. But nothing that would put him in the same circle as someone like Bellatrix Lestrange or Lucius Malfoy.

But that had been months ago as well and he had patched himself up again in Spinner's End before being called to that revel. And that ended with a horrible jinx fired by an Auror and he had gone again and had patched himself up again at Spinner's End.

He wasn't at Spinner's End now. It smelled differently here. And the bedding felt different. If only his eyelids would obey him. Delay would only worsen it and he forced them open a crack. White. Mostly white.

"Are you up?" he heard a voice. "Don't pretend to sleep, I saw your eyelids open a little."

He wasn't sure he knew that voice. But that voice triggered something in his head and he shut his eyes tightly again.

Lily.

Lily and the old man and the Oath and promising to be a spy. Laying his life on the line for Lily. But that voice, he didn't know it.

He opened his eyes again, when he felt something prod his arm.

"Come on, sleepyhead. 27 hours of sleep definitely is enough," the voice spoke and there was a face to the voice. He remembered. It came back. The face belonged to the voice and those two things belonged to the old man's niece. Didn't remember the name but she was Professor McGonagall's daughter.

"27 hours?" the words registered in his head and suddenly, too suddenly, he had sat up and stared around, wild-eyed. He knew that large room with the high ceilings and the rows of beds. Infirmary. Hospital Wing. Hogwarts. Why the Infirmary?

"Poppy says that you have to take this potion," she had a vial in her hand and dangled it in front of his nose. "And then," she added without giving him the chance to do anything other than taking the vial from her, "my Uncle says that, as soon as you're up and well, you should go and see him, he's in his office."

"First the potion and a Diagnostic Spell," he heard another female voice and Poppy Pomfrey, he remembered her well, came almost rushing to his bedside in a blur of white robes and she looked at him quizzically for a moment, a look he couldn't quite explain, before he turned to the girl. "Tizzy, your parents are looking for you."

The girl, Tizzy, apparently, rolled her eyes but nodded and stared down at him. "Good bye, Severus Snape," she said with a smile and seemed to run out of the Infirmary.

He wanted to sit up further and swing his legs over to get up, but with a flick of Madame Pomfrey's wand, he lay flat on his back again and in a flash, she sat on the edge of the back.

"Severus," she began hesitantly, "I may call you Severus still, can't I?" He nodded slowly and eyed the medi-witch warily. ""I found traces of two different Unforgivables on you, scars that stem from various Curses, amongst them some I do not know myself and I suspect severe sleep deprivation or insomnia. That, of course, are my mere deduction skills since you fell asleep in the Headmaster's office and could not even be roused when Minerva poked you with her wand. For which I and Albus chastised her strongly," her voice until then was strong, business-like, rather cold but then she looked into his eyes and bit her lip. She closed her eyes, shook her head and bent down to him, her hands on his upper arms.

"What in the world were you thinking, Severus, giving yourself into the hands of that despicable monster?"

The numbness and the speechlessness were gone instantly. He sat up quickly and pushed the hand of the woman off him.

"What do you care?" he shouted and surprisingly enough, it felt good to shout but he felt his throat raw after those four words already and he continued, a little less shouting. "It was the way I chose and it is none of your business."

She, however, did not seem surprised at his outburst and she spoke, gently, softly, "We could have helped you. I could have helped you. If you had only said a word back when..."

"Back when what?" he interrupted her. "Back when nothing, Madame Pomfrey," he glared and pushed himself up from the bed, found his wand on the little cabinet beside the bed and used it, quickly, to transfigure his hospital gown into black robes.

"Back when those Gryffindors and you got into fights constantly," she cried out. "And you turned to those unwholesome people after another Gryffindor let you down." She tried to grasp his sleeve but with he had no trouble with his height, to glare down at the rather small women and yanked himself free.

"The Headmaster wants me," he said very coldly and rushed out from the Infirmary before she could stop him. It was nobody's business what had happened in during his time as a student in Hogwarts. And nobody had the right to ask him why he had followed the Dark Lord. He followed his instinct and the things he remembered from back when and his feet, miraculously, carried him to the Gargoyle that was guarding the spiral staircase they had descended the night before. He didn't remember the password but he knew how to scowl and the Gargoyle seemed to be expecting him in any case.

"You can go straight up, Master Grump," the Gargoyle spoke and Severus scowled a little more but slowly, began to walk up the stairs.

xx

Tisiphone Dumbledore didn't hate a lot of things. She despised, yes, for instance, the Dark Side. It was in her blood, after all, she disliked liver, she wasn't fond of taking Pepper-Up Potion. But there was one thing she truly hated.

And that was stumbling in on her parents making out on the couch.

They were old people. Dad more so than Mum but still, they were both two old to be snogging and fumbling on the couch and Tizzy had to grimace. And, for good measure, added a tiny, little puking noise.

"Could you stop that?" she groaned and held her hand in front of her eyes.

She heard another kiss and then, chuckling from her Father. "You can look now, Tizzy," he said good-naturedly and she first peeked out between spread fingers. There were at least two inches of air between her parents and only Mum's hand remained on Dad's thigh.

"Poppy said you were looking for me," she said, bored.

"No," her Mother shook her head. "We weren't."

"I can see that," she groaned. "At least I hope I do."

She frowned. So she had just wanted her out of the Hospital Wing. Away from the strange bloke. The strange, interesting bloke. She raised both her eyebrows and flopped down in the upholstered chair and swung her legs over the armrest and rested her head against the back of the chair. It smelled like home, this. She could explain, exactly, but that was the smell she had always missed at St Augustus's School.

She sighed and when she looked up, she saw her parents grinning at her. Both of them. Identically. Tizzy had to roll her eyes but to be honest, she had missed being home that much and only during the summer. It was summer now, yes, and school was over and she had no idea what to do with her life apart from helping the Light fighting You-know-who, but she loved being back at the castle. Her home. And she loved the feel of being back. Though she definitely hated seeing her parents make out.

"What?" she asked exasperatedly when they didn't stop grinning.

"Nothing," Mother replied.

"What were you doing in the Hospital Wing, anyway?" Father added, the grin having turned into a smirk.

"I was helping Poppy," she said swiftly and shrugged, "maybe I'll go into healing."

"Tizzy," Mother sat up straight, then bent slightly forward to be closer, her elbows on her knees, "Severus Snape is not available at the moment."

"What?" Tizzy shrieked. "What makes you think I'm interested in a Death Eater?"

"Maybe the fact," Mother said, "that you spent the last day in the Infirmary?"

"Poppy asked me to be there. Well, for a bit. And it was interesting to see him being healed."

Dad raised his eyebrows and Mum's lips grew thin and there was nothing left for Tizzy to do but to huff and disappear into her room.

xx

"Now, you saw the dungeons and your quarters and you let me know if there is anything else you need," the old man said gently and Severus was seated, again, in front of a cup of tea and a tin full of that Muggle candy.

"What about Occlumency?" he blurted.

"Ah," he nodded, "I'm afraid, we have to rush this a bit. Voldemort," Severus flinched, "must not find out under any circumstances."

He nodded and the old man, without preamble, raised his wand and said, clearly, "Legilimens."

Flashes and images and memories and he felt himself almost doubling over from what he saw.

_He shivers in the corner and it's cold and dark and he only hears the screams and shouts of Mummy and Father. And then there is the horrible noise a breaking bones and he presses himself deeper into the corner and presses his fists to his ears. Doesn't want to hear any more. _

_He shivers in the corner and Father's looming over him and he only sees the fist of the man as it's whizzing past his face and Father's shouting and he doesn't know what this is about. He doesn't know why Father is shouting and he doesn't know how he made the milk stop from falling. He doesn't know and he feels the long fingers of Father connecting painfully with his cheek and he bites the inside of his cheek because crying is not good. Father doesn't like it when he's crying. _

_He wants to hug Mummy but Mummy just sits there and doesn't react when he gently pokes her side. Mummy just sits there and she holds a plastic bag filled with ice to her eye but he wants to hug her and she just stares with her good eye out of the window. _

_He shivers in the corner and doesn't dare to go back to the common room. They laugh at him and after those damn Gryffindors hexed the boils on his face, the laugh even more. And he wants to go home but he knows that home is worse. And that Mother isn't well and Father will only be drunk all the time and he cannot stand to hear the blows he's delivering to Mum. But Hogwarts is not as wonderful as Mum had told him it would be. _

_He is cold and doesn't want to go home. Home is bad and they argue again and Mum send him out to play and he sits there, just there in the bushes and watches them play. She is beautiful. _

"STOP!" he shouted and he found himself on the floor. He didn't know how he had come to be on the floor but he did not dare to look at the old man again and his chest heaved and breathing was difficult. The old man had just seen all of this.

_**xx**_

_**Quick explanation to the time line. We're now in the summer of 1981. Everything else should be clear from the chapter. Please feel free to ask if you have any questions. **_

_**Thank you and review, please!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**Thanks again to Alabaster Princess for inspiration and help and everything else!**_

_**xx **_

Trying to breathe deeply, Albus Dumbledore helped the young man to his feet. Hadn't known much about his home life at all. Remembered Eileen Prince as a quiet, studious, skinny girl who kept to herself mostly and had only few people in Slytherin she ever talked to. And only ever showed interest in Potions and Gobstones. Actually, he only remembered one instance clearly about Eileen Prince – and that was anything but positive.

Had thrown a Gryffindor down a staircase in her 6th year. He had never been able to find out the circumstances.

But this? He had heard, yes, through the grapevine, that she had married a Muggle. Knew Severus was a half-blood. But this?

There was a horrible weight in his stomach and on his chest and he had to look at the young man scrambling to his feet and trying to pull himself up to the chair.

"Oh Severus," he said softly and moved quickly to help the young man, the boy, really, sit again. "I didn't know."

Severus seemed to clench his jaw and his breathing came rapid and shallow and uneven. "You couldn't have told me what to do," he hissed as if in pain.

Albus Dumbledore was at a loss for words. He couldn't answer. He hadn't known. If he had, he would have alerted Horace and would have told him to keep an eye on Severus. If he had known, he would have kept his own eye on him. Would have helped. But Severus had probably not told anyone. He was probably much like Eileen in that respect. Not telling anyone anything.

He put his hands on the boy's shoulders and squeezed gently. "Maybe I should have explained about Occlumency."

"It would have been helpful," he answered after a moment, snarkily.

He sighed, had definitely deserved it. Had thought that with Severus's taciturnity and his being so introverted, he would be able to learn by doing. By just being able to shut him out once he noticed what he was doing.

Apparently, he had been wrong.

Had been wrong about some things concerning Severus Snape.

"I'm sorry, my boy," he said gently and perched himself on the edge of the desk, opposite Severus. "The mind of a human being is like a second-hand bookshop. Very messy but stuffed full with books. Of course, in this case, the books are memories. It is quite simple to learn how to just browse around in that second-hand bookshop. But it is very different and takes great skill to find what you are looking for. But if you practice, and often buy your books in one of those stores, you will learn how they're built and which book is where. I'm afraid, Voldemort has that skill and it will only take a second while he can glimpse in your eyes, and he will know everything he is not supposed to know. I am sure, he has seen everything that I have just seen but instead of loudly rummaging around in that second-hand book store that is your mind, he does so silently and quietly and you will not notice. And he will find out what we are doing here just as silently. Hence the importance of you learning it."

He had been quiet the entire time and had listened. He did not seem puzzled but rather seemed to think on how to achieving it.

"I find it easiest to compartmentalise memories and thoughts. And imagine my mind as a second-hand bookshop. With the compartmentalising, I can easily imagine covering up the various shelves, or stacks of books, or thoughts, or memories and hence, veiling them from those trying to see them."

Severus nodded silently, closed his eyes and there was a little line between his eyes.

"Try again," he said quietly and his eyes found his. "Go on."

"Are you sure? It might be too..."

He looked almost cross and nodded viciously. "Go on," he hissed.

He sighed. "Legilimens," he whispered and proceeded a little gentler than before.

_Severus sits under a tree on the Hogwarts grounds. He knows the tree. It's half-way down to the Black Lake. Suddenly, there are three other students coming towards him and it takes him a moment to notice that those are Gryffindors. James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. A fourth is strolling leisurely after them. Remus Lupin. James Potter and Sirius Black are mocking Severus and laughing at him and he tried to read, tries to ignore them. _

And suddenly, a thick, cream-coloured veil was pushed between himself and the memory and he felt himself being thrown out of Severus's mind.

"Very go...," he wanted to praise him but the young man in front of him was very pale and shivering and his face a pale, pallid mask, his eyes wide open.

He didn't understand that memory. But he remembered him and those Gryffindors having, well, problems with each other. He remembered the incident with Severus and Remus and the Shrieking Shack.

"Try again," he said a moment later, rigid.

"No, Severus. I want you to rest," he shook his head.

"Try again," he repeated fiercely.

xx

He had not thought about that for a while. Well, it was always there but pushed back, deep, far back. Hated to be reminded of it. But the moment the imaginary cream-coloured veil, curtain, cover had gone down on the imaginary bookshelf that contained all the memories of those Gryffindors, had been wonderful. Veiled from himself and everyone else. He would use this. He would learn it and he would put anything bad behind those veils, those covers. Would make them heavier and thicker and he would not have to think about all those things he did not want to think about. Could hide it all. Would not have to remember.

He was ready and focused on his mind and the stacks of books veiled behind thick, heavy, cream-coloured covers and stared in the old man's eyes and waited for the assault of his mind again, and he heard him mutter that word and felt almost nothing. He was behind those covers and he felt absolutely nothing.

No vicious dragging forth of memories he had no wish to ever see again, no rummaging around in his head, nothing and a moment later, he even managed to push the old man out of his head. Just like this.

"I'm impressed," the old man said. "However, I can see clearly that you Occlude. You have to make this invisible. But we'll work on it tomorrow. You need to be well rested," he continued and smiled gently.

"Once more," he said, convinced that he could do it. He would pretend have to try. The Dark Lord was growing more impatient every day. He knew there was someone, a child, Lily's child, who could destroy him. That had made him furious. And furious meant revels. And furious meant meetings. And meetings meant revels. And meeting and revels meant having to be by his side soon.

And being in front of him meant that he had to be perfect. Had to have perfected this Occlumency-thing.

The old man shook his head. "This is exhausting, Severus and I was told by Madame Pomfrey not to tire you out."

"Do it!" he snapped and glared at the old man.

xx

Tizzy was positively, horribly bored. She had read for a bit, had bothered her Mum a bit, had flooed through to the Hog's Head but Dad had sent her home again, just because of this tiny brawl, and she had tried to read for a bit but that book, Hortensia Winterbottom, _Casting a Spell on my Heart_, just plain, plain terrible. Those love-scenes were completely over the top. Didn't understand the absolutely besotted men and women in those novels. Nobody was ever that much in love. Not controlling their passion. Idiotic, that. She had always been able to control her so-called passion. And Timotheus had been a normal, randy, male teenager. Could never get enough when she sneaked out of St Augustus's.

She was glad she had ended it and hadn't had to be with him any more.

She threw the book in a corner, disgusted, and huffed, loudly.

"Could you keep it down, Tisiphone?" Mother asked from the desk where she sat, "I'm trying to work."

"It's the summer," Tizzy complained and got up, "and why do we own such rubbish?" she added, pointing at the book that lay discarded, half open in the corner.

Mum shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose your father brought it."

She grimaced and kicked her legs against the arms of the upholstered chair she sat in.

"Tisiphone, if you're bored, I'm sure Hagrid could use your help. He told me he there was a young unicorn and he can't get near it."

"I can't either," she muttered under her breath, sure Mother didn't hear it. Mum didn't know about Timotheus anyway. "I don't want to go to Hagrid, Mum. He's always trying to feed me and I get a toothache from that. And that dog of his slobbers all over me."

"Then do something else or be quiet," Mother had turned back to the parchment on her desk. "You could, for instance, write some applications," she added and smirked, squinting.

That was Tizzy's cue to go. "I'll be back for dinner," she huffed and stormed from the rooms. Didn't care where she was going. The castle was big enough anyway. Maybe she would try to find that Chamber of Secrets and go down into history as the first person after Salazar Slytherin to access it. Or maybe, not the first person. But the first to tell people about it.

Or maybe she would go up to Mum's classroom and try and access that and set the bloody birds and beetles free she kept there for her students to explode, or transfigure.

Or, she smirked, she would find the rooms of that Severus Snape person. Everyone else in the castle was old. Well, oldish anyway. He was young and interesting. And he looked so sad.

She shrugged to herself and made her way down a staircase. Potions were usually down in the dungeons. And with his pallid, sallow skin, he almost looked like he belonged there. And if he wasn't there, well, she checked her pendant watch, she had 4 more hours to find him anyway.

xx

He felt dizzy and exhausted. That last prodding of his mind had probably been too much. But he had managed to pretend that he wasn't using Occlumency. It wasn't perfect and he knew he had to practice more, practice until he was perfect, practice until nobody could see he was doing it, not even the Dark Lord. But he had to rest. Half an hour, then he'd continue.

The next summon could be at any moment. And he had to hide this. Had to maybe figure out who to show the Dark Lord fake memories. Yes, that was a good idea. He would have to find a way to do it. Would have to figure it out and soon.

But if he was being honest with himself, this, just this with the old man, this session, had dragged up memories he had never wanted to see so clearly again. James Potter.

James Potter.

Oh, the irony of it. The whole bloody irony. Being here, being forced to learn it, to be confronted with this, because of James Potter's wife and his spawn.

James Potter who had made his life hell. He was, at the moment, feeling as if he was going through that hell again. For James Potter and the safety of his bloody son.

No. No. He was doing it because of Lily. It didn't matter whom she was married to. He was doing it because of her and he shouldn't have to remind himself. It was for her and for her only. Because she would never be safe if he found them. And even if he spared her, she would not be happy again. She would never smile so beautifully again.

And that smile made it all worth it.

He nodded determinedly to himself and hurried down the corridor to his new rooms and quite suddenly, ran into something.

Or someone, rather.

xx

She wasn't sure which part of the dungeons she was in. Mum had always made sure when she was younger that she was never alone down there. It was too easy to get lost and she noticed that now.

She looked around and knew that she was lost. Well, she had time to find her way back, and find that Severus Snape bloke before dinner and...

Suddenly, she found herself pressed against a hard, firm chest and found herself engulfed by a scent she hadn't smelled before. Remarkable though and she knew she had just run into the person she had been looking for without actually looking up.

"Hullo," she said smilingly as she finally did look up and was still sort of leaning against him.

He merely grunted something that might be considered a greeting and stepped back.

"So, Severus Snape, are you well? You look a little, erm, pale," she blinked and took a step towards him. He was paler than before and she saw him clutching his forearm and her eyes widened.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked in a quiet voice.

He seemed to try and take a deep breath and nodded sharply. "Tell your Uncle he called me."

_**xx **_

_**Thanks for reviewing. Reviews make my day, so please leave one!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx **_

He found himself, in his quickly thrown on robes and mask, standing in a circle. He risked a quick glance, only moving his eyes, never his head, kept that as down as he could, to see how many were around.

And what he saw was bad.

There were merely five or six more and he was the one with a secret. He closed his eyes briefly and remembered what he had learned only hours earlier. He would keep his eyes down as much as possible. Would try as much as he could to avoid eye contact. Oh, he had planned to tell the Dark Lord that he was now a spy for him. That he was now a potions master at Hogwarts. That he could bring information straight from the old man.

But he wasn't good enough for that yet. He would have to try just to veil his memories, his thoughts from the Dark Lord. And he would have to remember to keep his eyes on the ground as much as possible.

Grass. Muddy. His shoes dirty already and after that summer storm earlier, the wet from the ground seeped through the broken seams on the toes of his boots and he felt his socks getting slightly wet and cold. Still, no matter. It would probably a long time until he could change socks or get a bath and he didn't even want to think about what would happen until then.

Next to him, another one of his former comrades cleared his throat and it was enough for Severus to know who it was. Igor Karkaroff. Newly arrived from somewhere east on the Continent. Maybe the USSR. Maybe Poland. He had never found out it didn't matter either.

Nothing mattered. Not his cold feet, wet socks and broken and dirty shoes. Nothing but keeping his eyes on the ground when he heard it. The voice.

"My Death Eaters," it hissed and Severus knew that this was the moment the veils in his head had to work. No matter what. Or he would be dead before had spent even one night as a spy. They had to. He forced them up quickly. Not too obvious, he remembered. Show him some memories. Let him see some things. Spinner's End. The last revel. And add contentment to being there. Let him believe that he wanted to be there. Let him see that he wanted power and to be in his service.

"I summoned you here tonight since there is a special task if have for you," the voice continued and Severus was sure that the veils were there. That he had achieved what he wanted to achieve and he dared to look up slightly, his vision narrowed by the mask. And there he was. In the middle of the circle. He forced all thoughts about the Dark Lord behind his veils. Everything but admiration. Admiration that he wasn't sure he felt. But even that doubt was quickly behind the veil. Admiration and worship was left.

And he forced himself, to meet his eyes. It was all in place. Veiled was the old man. The past two days. Sleeping in the Infirmary at Hogwarts and waking up to Tisiphone Dumbledore's face. Veiled were his concern for Lily.

"Snape, my failing little Death Eater," he took a step towards him and Severus had to focus hard. Had to concentrate. Had to slow his fast-beating heart. Had to stop himself from pushing back the Dark Lord, who was not as silent in his head now that he was aware he was doing it, as the old man had insinuated.

"And Karkaroff. New to our midst," he continued and stopped looking at Severus. He had succeeded.

Had actually hidden something from the Dark Lord. He had stood against him. Successfully.

"And dear Antares," his hissing got almost a soft quality and from the corner of his eye, he watched the tall, sinewy Dark Lord with the inhumane eyes touch the man's cheek with the tip of his wand. Antares Abbott was about his age. Had been a Ravenclaw a year over him. And as far as Severus knew, one of those who desperately wanted to be in the Dark Lord's inner circle. And would do anything for it. Despite his Death Eater hating family.

"This task will not be for you," the Dark Lord said, almost gently, Severus thought, and he knew this did not mean gentleness. "Crucio," he hissed and the man fell twitching and screaming on the ground.

Severus did not know what he had done wrong, or whether it was just a demonstration. And he dared not think about it at all. Dared not to think at all.

"Do you know why you deserve this?"

"Yes, my Lord," Abbott's voice was weak.

"Do you have failed me?"

"Yes, my Lord," he replied.

"Ah. It least he knows," the Dark Lord almost smirked. "Crucio," he hissed again and Severus did push the disgust far far back behind the veils in his head.

xx

"Albus!" Tizzy shouted and was met by an indignant shriek by the phoenix. "Hey Fawkes. Where's my Uncle? It's important. Really," she spoke to the bird. "I need him. It's important."

"What is important, my girl?" her Uncle appeared down the stairs from his own quarters.

She breathed deeply. "Severus Snape was called to him. I met him in the corridor and his arm burned and like you explained that you-know-who calls his followers by letting that Mark burn, he sort of clutched his arm and told me to tell you."

Alb sighed and gestured up the stairs. "Do you want to have a cup of tea?" he asked gently, "while we wait for him?"

She shrugged with one shoulder. "Why not? I've got nothing better to do."

"And I'd wager your mother is telling you to write applications again?" he smiled and nodded at the phoenix which took off.

"You know Mum, Alb. She knew by the time she was ten she wanted to work with Transfiguration. She knew she wanted to be a teacher by the time she was 12. I'm eighteen and me not knowing what I want to do with my life is almost a tragedy," she sighed dramatically.

"You're more like your mother than you know," he chuckled and ushered her upstairs.

"But I do know what I want to do but you and Mum and Dad won't let me," she huffed and remained standing in front of his door, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Tizzy, we will not let you fight and you know the reasons. You are one of the prime targets. I am well aware that your spellwork and your capability to defend yourself is exceptional and I know that you want to fight. But you are protected here and if worst comes to worst, you are also here to protect Hogwarts. But out there, nobody can guarantee your protection," he answered softly, and came to stand before her and looked into her eyes. "We love you, Tizzy. Your parents do and I do a lot. And we cannot lose you."

He shook his head and hugged her, hard. "You cannot imagine what those Death Eaters and Voldemort are capable of. And it has nothing to do with your abilities. If there are five, or ten against you, you can be the most brilliant witch in the entire world and you'd stand no chance. And death then is the best thing you can hope for."

"But I want to help," she said meekly.

"But you can help, dear," he whispered in her ear, "be a help to Poppy, be a help to your mother and to your father and me. And be a help to Severus. He will need it." He pushed her to arm-length after he kissed her cheek softly. "Just be yourself, Tizzy and make us laugh and smile and distract us. You're good for our morale," he grinned and pushed her inside and on then horribly purple couch.

xx

"Avada Kedavra," he heard him whisper and Antares Abbott's former twitching form lay completely still on the muddy, grassy ground.

"My Death Eaters, nobody will betray me. Nobody will let even his or her family know what tasks I set them."

He made a quick choice. Quick, and probably wrong. But so much had gone wrong already. And more than what had happened to Antares could not happen to him. "My Lord," he said quietly and somehow, he didn't know how, he had made up a story in his head. Plausible. Going to the old man. Telling him he wanted to teach. And the rest of his head, the rest that was not pushed behind the veils, only showed admiration. Showed only his loyalty to the Dark Lord. Whether true or false mattered little now. It mattered what the Dark Lord believed. And he would believe that he had achieved what he had wanted him to achieve. He had someone inside of Hogwarts now.

"Severus," he wasn't scared. He knew what he was doing. It had come to him. It had to be this way. He knew he could do it. It was all stored away. And was still stored away when he found himself twitching on the ground as well. Astonishingly enough, it was even simpler during the Cruciatus. The pain filled his head.

"Do not presume you can just speak to me," he said after what seemed like an eternity. But Severus knew that it had been shorter than usual. "But since you already started, Severus, do continue."

He scrambled to his feet. Pain filling his head. Pain and the story he had made up. He merely hoped that that made up story looked like a real memory. Wished for it.

"I know I have failed you a few weeks ago when I could not persuade the Headmaster of Hogwarts to let me teach Dark Arts, or, officially Defence against the Dark Arts," he sneered those words, "however, I have gone back to the old man and he allows me to live at Hogwarts and allows me to teach Potions. I am sure I can earn his trust."

The Dark Lord seemed, for a moment only, very surprised. He didn't think about it, only wished that he was pleased. A thought he could allow. He wanted the Dark Lord to be pleased. Didn't want another Cruciatus. He could see that and yet, he knew it would be prudent, for a moment only, to bow his head in obedience.

"Severus Snape," the Dark Lord spoke, "You surprise me. I had not expected this much initiative. I set you this task, however, you are late."

xx

"Alb, look," Tizzy pointed out of the window to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and put the teacup a bit too heavily on the saucer. "It's Severus Snape, isn't it?"

Her Uncle's eyes widened and he got up with a speed she had not seen in him use in years. In fact, had not seen him use since he was supposed to watch her about 15 years ago and she had escaped and had stumbled into the Forest as well. But she more than matched his speed and as he shouted an order to the phoenix and together, they ran down the stairs and through the corridors and out of Hogwarts, towards the edge of the Forest. On even ground, she was even faster than her Uncle and reached the poor, staggering man long before Alb got there.

"Are you alright?" she asked concernedly and when he swayed dangerously, she had slipped underneath him and let him drape his arm over her shoulder and she gripped him around the waist.

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I can see that."

"Severus," Alb panted, reaching them, "what happened?"

Tizzy dragged the poor man forwards and glared at her Uncle. "That can surely wait," she glared, "Let him have something to eat and drink and let him sit down for a while." She shook her head and continued to just help him walk. Which was, honestly speaking, difficult enough. He wasn't heavy but it felt like he was putting his entire weight on her and he was tall, almost a head taller than she was and he seemed very weak. He trembled and shivered but somehow, somehow, she felt him holding her tighter than necessary. She looked up and shot him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

"I'm sure the elves will get you a good meal," she said gently and saw him clenching his jaw. "And yes, you will eat," she added after a moment. "You're too thin." She turned her head to the other side and stared at her Uncle. "And you? Do you think you could help me here a little?"

_**xx**_

_**A bit quicker than usual, I know. Don't get used to it ;) **_

_**Please review!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

Nobody could say that the Dark Lord played fair, or even by the common Wizarding rules and customs. He was the Dark Lord after all and cursing someone when that someone's back was turned, was the least of his concerns.

Severus had not seen that last Cruciatus Curse coming. Had prepared to apparate away and it had taken him by surprise. And the Bone-Crushing Curse on top of it, shattering his collarbone, had not been any less surprising. But that's what you got for not doing what he wanted. And even if you did what he wanted but did it too late, you were punished.

It was difficult to think. That young Dumbledore-woman, Tisiphone, helped him walk and she was warm. Her body was warm and he felt so cold and had to lean so heavily on her.

His vision was blurred again and he only knew that they kept on walking towards the castle. That the old man supported him and somehow, it hated the idea that he was too weak to walk on his own. He wanted to shake them off but couldn't. And when the old man tried to let him put his arm on his shoulder, as Tisiphone had done, he yelped in pain.

He knew those two were talking. And he knew he had to tell that man that the Dark Lord was targeting Diagon Alley and was on his way to take over the Ministry, that he let some of his Death Eaters infiltrate the institution. Had to tell the old man that Antares Abbott was dead since he refused to kill his mother and that Igor Karkaroff was probably in that very moment trying to find a way to the Weasley family. Arthur and Molly Weasley were top of his list, it seemed, at the moment. Why, he didn't know.

"The Weasley family," he said slowly, "They are his next target."

He saw, blurred, the man nod his head. "It was to be expected after Fabian and Gideon."

"And the Ministry," he croaked. "Crabbe is on that and Goyle."

"Severus, I think you should...," the old man tried to say but his niece interrupted him.

"You really shouldn't talk now."

"And Antares Abbott's dead," he simply said and it silenced the two people helping him walk. There was nothing more anyone could say. And there was definitely nothing more he could say. Didn't want to talk any more. Talking hurt and it seemed at least the young woman by his side seemed utterly shocked.

The heavy door of the castle was larger than he remembered and he felt himself led in.

He heard more voices and had a blurry image of Madame Pomfrey in front of him and the gentle woman put both his hands on his cheeks and spoke to him, it seemed.

"What did he do?" she asked and he was, for a moment only, lost for an answer.

"Cruciatus," he replied and his throat felt dry.

"And?" she continued as he felt himself being moved forward again.

"Bone-Crushing."

"Where?"

"Collarbone."

She nodded and he walked slowly up the stairs. It truly hurt. But it was an odd feeling, truly odd, to find that he was not alone to heal his own injuries. Unknown feeling. Very strange.

xx

He looked terrible but Albus Dumbledore knew there was no other way. No other way to win this war. Currently, Severus was the only spy he had. There was no one else now that Elle was dead. He didn't want Severus to end the way she had. But he needed inside information. Even if it was ruthless. People did not understand what their world would suffer if Tom Riddle won. Nothing would ever be the same. And he would have to do anything he could, everything in his power, to stop him.

And seeing Severus there, on the white bed in the Infirmary, being fed potion after potion by Poppy, he knew that he had no other choice. And that young man had fierce determination. His eyes were tired and full of pain, but he was determined.

The young man chucked yet another potion and looked up. "And he knows I work at Hogwarts now," he said tiredly and stood up wearily. "He thinks I am spying for him and he expects information," Severus added and waving off all protest from Poppy and Tizzy, he walked slowly to the door, opened it and just walked out.

Just walked out. As if nothing had happened. Tizzy and Poppy shared a look, only a moment, then his niece darted to the door and ran out of the infirmary.

"Do you have to send him back, Albus?" the mediwitch asked, sighing.

He nodded. "There is no other way."

"There has to be another way. He's been here twice with severe injuries in the last 4 days and he slept for one of it. Did you see him? This is insanity, sending him back."

"He might just be our only chance of winning this war," he replied evenly.

"That's what you said about Elle Henderson," she responded fiercely. "And we buried her."

He said nothing for a moment. He had grieved for the girl. And her death had been most unwelcome. But yes, Severus coming to him was convenient, and just at the right time. The Potters, well, he had expected them to be the target. Them or the Longbottoms. It could not be anyone else. And he had taken precautions. Even though, if the prophecy came true, there was nothing, absolutely nothing he could do. The way he saw it. Not that it would stop him from trying to protect these people.

"Try and see the bigger picture," he said calmly, explaining for the umpteenth time what nobody understood. Everyone in this day and age had to make sacrifices. He tried to avoid letting people die. He tried to protect them but sometimes he couldn't. It was even beyond his capacity of magic. It was for the good of all Wizardkind.

But the mediwitch, again, didn't understand. She glared at him and raised her arm, pointing her finger at the door. "You can tell that insane idiocy to someone else."

xx

"Snape!" she shouted and ran after him. Within a moment, she was by his side. He was still walking slowly and as if he was in pain. "You have to eat," she took hold of his arm.

"Go away," he growled.

Tizzy rolled her eyes. "Yes, I will. After a moment. I can't with clean conscience let you walk to the dungeons all alone. This is where he put you, isn't it?"

He nodded, and it almost looked defeated. "I will eat. Now go away."

"Stubborn sort," she muttered and shook her head. "Fine. Night, Snape." After a brief nod of his, she turned away and, shaking her head still, she decided that going home was best after all. Mum had a right to know, she thought and this man clearly did not want her help after all. She had tried and she would try again but she understood, sort of, that he just wanted to be alone.

She checked the pendant watch around her neck and groaned. She was late for dinner. Not all that much, only fifteen minutes, but she had annoyed Mum enough and when Dad was back in the Hog's Head, Mother would be deadly deadly angry. And Tizzy could forget conversation for the rest of the night.

Except, well, she would use another tactic.

"Mum?" she stormed into their rooms and before she could even look at her Mother to see the annoyed glare, she continued, "Severus Snape was summoned to you-know-who and he just came back a few minutes ago."

"What?" her Mother replied and got up from the table where she had sat and eaten. "Is he alright?"

Tizzy knew her tactics had worked then. " He was hit by a Cruciatus Curse and had his collarbone shattered. I think."

And then, something unexpected happened. Her Mother, who always looked so stern and almost forbidding at times, stood up and her features softened into worry and something else Tizzy couldn't place. "The poor boy," she said softly, and it seemed, more to herself than to her, "And even if someone tells Albus it's insane to send a 21-year old to this madman, he will not listen."

Tizzy sat down at the table but truth be told, after seeing this, seeing Severus Snape like this, she understood for the first time really what that dark wizard was capable of doing. If he did that to one of his followers, she didn't want to imagine what he could do to one of his enemies. She would never let her Mother go again. Would make sure Albus did not send Mum on missions again. Or only if she was allowed to go with her.

xx

He sat down on his new bed and with a flick of his wand, the protected drawer of his bedside cabinet sprung open. Slowly, he pulled out the framed picture and looked at it tiredly. A young woman, a girl, really, was waving at someone, turned away slightly from the person that had taken the picture.

He bit his lip, hard, and with a gently trembling finger, stroked over the picture-woman's hair. "It's for you, Lily," he whispered and with the frame in his hands, staring at her, he lay down.

_**xx**_

_**Please review!**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

Hogwarts was bigger than he remembered. Or maybe, it only seemed bigger since he, during the time when he didn't talk to the old man, or when he didn't set up the small lab the old man said he could use, or when he didn't work on lesson plans, had, for the first time in his life, access to the entire castle and could explore it.

And he had, five days long. Had seen a lot of the castle. From top to bottom and when it stopped raining, and the Dark Mark on his arm had not burned, had not hurt, and he had recovered from the last meeting. It was time again, soon, probably.

And today, it was time to get out a bit. Visit the old places where he had read, studied, had been tormented. Where he had lost her. He couldn't put it off forever. And today, with the sun shining, he would do it. Would just do it.

Briskly, he walked out of the castle. It was too warm for robes and shirt and trousers and he had left the robes in his quarters in the dungeons. The sunlight almost blinded him. He had spent so much time indoors during the last months, had been in the dark too much, he knew.

It was astonishing how green everything was. That there were flowers blooming. Birds singing. That everything seemed to peaceful when the world outside was falling to pieces.

He sighed and walked on. He had been there often. The way down to the Black Lake. He had known those trees. Had studied underneath them, had read underneath them. Had spent a lot of time there.

With long, quick strides, he passed the trees and made his way to the Lake. It wasn't black at the moment. More a brownish sort of green and tiny, little waves crashed on the shore and somewhere, he saw the tip of a tentacle. It was all so very oddly familiar.

Only, the figure lying there, flat on the ground, in only a skimpy, white underrobe, barefoot, wasn't. Knees visible, arms visible. One of her arms covering her eyes, shielding them from the sun. Legs crossed at the ankles.

He hadn't seen Tisiphone Dumbledore since that night he had returned from the Dark Lord. When she had wanted to feed him. And he had been rude. She was so young, and so innocent. And had helped him walk when he couldn't.

He made a quick, very quick decision and walked over to where she obviously tried to get a bit of a tan, and very quietly, sat down next to her but there was a little twig he had sat on, and she uncovered her eyes immediately.

"Hey there," she said gently. "Haven't seen you for a while."

"The castle is big," he replied snidely and she covered her eyes again instantly, made absolutely no move to sit up.

"That it is," she shrugged.

This was awkward. He didn't know why he had sat down. Had he thought he could just talk to her? About what? She was a girl. Innocent, had not seen war, had not seen anything he had seen. Sheltered, protected little girl.

"Are you alright again?" she asked suddenly, and lay her head sideways on her arm now, looking at him, eyes squinted. It was very bright outside.

"Yes, thank you," he replied and she nodded, smiling, and rolled on her side. She honestly looked as if she was utterly comfortable.

"So you'll start teaching Potions?"

He nodded and stretched his legs. It was a comfortable spot indeed. A slight breeze from the water kept the heat from getting too much and he did not dare to roll up his sleeves. Did not want her to see that abomination on his arm.

She sighed and pulled her wand out from the robes lying next to her and cast a Shade Charm. "That's better. Don't want you to get sunburned," she smiled. "Potions at St Augustus's was a catastrophe."

"St Augustus's?"

She nodded. "The school I went to. Mum and Dad and Alb didn't want me going here. Said it would be unfair. Though whether it'd be unfair for me or them or other students, I'm not sure. Maybe all of them. So they sent me to St Augustus's. Not very well known. And full of girls," Tisiphone sighed. "Horrible. 'Oh, Professor Lysinat, can't you teach us that gorgeous hair-curling charm?'" she added in a high-pitched, very girly voice. "No flying, no History of Magic, nothing. But it's supposed to be such a _good_ school."

"And it isn't?" he asked, mildly interested. He had never heard from this school. But people believed in any case that Hogwarts was the only Wizarding school in the UK. He knew there were more. Private, small schools. And probably the school she had gone to was one of those.

"I suppose so. Not bad-bad. The Defence classes were quite good, I think. And there was, of course, an excellent Transfigurations and Charms class. I think that was why Mum picked it."

"And why was Potions a catastrophe?"

She shrugged. "I lost count of the cauldrons our professor melted."

"Who was it?"

"Greg Glass," she sighed.

"Never heard of him," he answered. And he had knew about potions and potioneers. Thought he was quite informed. But apparently, not.

"Doesn't matter. He was incapable. Incapable of doing anything. Couldn't brew if his life depended on it. Mum said I should ask Horace to tutor me since I'm quite interested in potions but, let's face it, Horace Slughorn and I could never get along."

He nodded. Understood her well. Slughorn wasn't that capable either. And only helped those he deemed worthy. And if she was really that interested, well, he would be brewing for Madame Pomfrey as well, the old man had said so, and she could watch, if she wanted to.

xx

Honestly, she wasn't hopeless when it came to potions. She was, after all, perfectly able to read a book and she lived in a school. A school with two potions labs. She had practised during the summers. Had tried things.

But he didn't have to know that.

Especially since she wanted to spend a little time with him. He was absolutely fascinating. The way he sat there, so stiffly and dark and just so different from the way all other men or boys she had encountered before. He had beautiful eyes and an amazing nose. Nobel. And his voice was truly wonderful. She could listen to him for hours. He could read a phone book to her and she could probably feel the same way about it.

And he did just what she wanted him to do. Grudgingly, yes. But he did.

"If you're interested, I could lend you some books. Or if you want to, I could show you how to brew some simple potions I make for the mediwitch," he said slowly and she had to bit back on her grin. Instead, she merely looked at him, surprised.

"Oh," she uttered after a moment and allowed herself a smile, "that would be wonderful. Very, very kind of you."

He nodded sharply. "You should be there then, on time, tomorrow in the morning. If, er, I'm there."

She understood. But she truly didn't want to hear about He-who-must-not-be-named now. The day was too beautiful and she had just gotten a step further towards him. "I'll check. And you should at least leave a note or something when you're called away."

He nodded. "I made arrangements with your uncle."

"Good," she smiled and put her hand, impulsively, on his. "Can't let you stagger into the castle on your own."

_**xx **_

_**Sorry it's short. I'm getting a cold and it's horrible and I feel bad and sometimes, I think I'm almost male when it comes to being sick ;)**_

_**Review anyhow?**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**xx**_

She knew Mum was suspicious that something had happened to her. Something good, maybe, or maybe just up to something. And she really had to work a little on her stealth. Could not come bouncing back in and explain that it was just the lovely sunshine that made her so happy and bouncy and almost giggly. It was, of course, part of why she was happy and bouncy and giggly but not the main reason.

Tall, dark, and well, handsome. That was the reason.

And there Tizzy was, having thought that she wouldn't have a crush so easily, so quickly after that last debacle. But, have one mysterious stranger at Hogwarts and she was gone. Apparently.

No, of course not. She wasn't that flighty. And she wasn't sure she had a crush yet but it might just get there.

Could. Easily.

"Hiya," she smiled at her parents, both of them seated on the couch, reputable distance between them, listening to the wireless and Mum was reading a strange book and Dad was reading that bloody romance she had thrown in the corner before.

"Nice day?" Dad asked and she nodded with a big, happy smile before she flopped down between her parents and sighed deeply.

"It's beautiful outside," she said dreamily and let her hands fall on both her Mother's and her Father's thigh. It made a loud noise and both of them let their books drop.

"Tizzy," Mum said admonishingly.

"Oh, Mummy," she huffed half-heartedly, "don't always be so...stern. It's a lovely day. The sun is shining and I think I got a bit of a tan and Squiddy waved at me."

Her Father chuckled gently and covered her hand with his. "Your Mother had a tough day," he said and she immediately turned to look at her. She looked, yes, tired. And a bit exhausted.

"You went on one of those things, right?" she asked.

"Might be," she replied and picked up the book again.

"I'll leave you to it," Dad said wisely and, dropping a kiss on Tizzy's head and one on Mum's lips, he left through the floo. She hated this coming and going of Dad's. Always having to rush to the Hog's Head. And it was all, she knew that and had known it for a while, another one of those plans of Alb. Being there in the seedy pub, and watching things. And informing Alb and the Order.

"Mum?" she asked quietly and turned on the couch, sitting cross-legged on it, staring at her mother.

"Yes, dear?" she asked tiredly and Tizzy had to take her hand and play with her fingers the way she had done ever since she had been a girl.

"Did you?"

Mum nodded with a minuscule smile. "And don't ask if you can come again, please."

Tizzy shook her head. "No. On the contrary."

"That's something new," Mum's smile grew and she squeezed her hand. "Did you finally see reason?"

Tizzy shrugged and sort of knew that she had to, wanted to, open to her Mum. Wanted to feel close to her again. "I just saw what this, erm, monster did to Severus Snape and I'm scared for you," she said in a very little, very soft voice.

"Oh, my Tizzy," Mum's face softened and she found herself in her Mother's arms and she hugged her back, long and tight and hard. "Nothing will happen to me, I promise," she whispered in her ear and ran her fingers through her hair, undoing the tangles.

"But, Mum," she pulled back slightly, "it's..."

"Necessary, Tizzy. You know that. And don't pretend you don't because you're too smart for that. Someone has to fight against him. You know that. Not two days ago, you wanted to fight. Don't be hypocritical now."

She shook her head. "Don't want to lose you, Mum," she said slowly and made her Mother smiled gently.

"You won't lose me. Now, why that change of heart? Severus Snape?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. He really seems interesting and so sad."

"Hm."

"What's his story?"

Mum sighed dramatically, summoned a footstool and pulled Tizzy's head, as she had done, when she was little, in her lap, stroking her hair.

Tizzy smiled. Needed Mum close now. Understood what this was, she was fighting. Understood now. Felt the fool for wanting to desperately to go too. Not that she was a coward. When it was her turn, she would go. Without a hint of hesitation. But she knew that going the way she was, so impulsive, was almost suicide. Probably.

"Severus Snape was a quiet boy," Mum began, slowly, carding her fingers through her hair.

xx

He had gone back to the dungeons and had sat down on the desk that the old man had put there for him. It was a nice desk, in the office next to the Potions classroom, oak, with deep drawers.

It was not expected, to sit there at all. He had never expected to return to Hogwarts. Not as a teacher at least.

And frankly, he didn't know at all whether he could do it. He knew what kind of teacher he didn't want to become, but Merlin's teeth, he didn't even know the basics. Nobody had told him, yet, anything about teaching. The old man had explained that there was a syllabus and that he knew enough about potions that he could improve it the way he wanted it to.

But how to teach children? He had absolutely no idea.

Well, it was still five weeks until start of term and he would just try. If he was still alive by then.

H suppressed a moan when he felt the burning on his arm. He had instructions from the old man. He knew what to do. And he would have to play the role. Perfectly.

The robes were in his hands within a split seconds and he had thrown them over his head, had the mask in his hand and ran from the castle.

Musn't be late.

xx

It was as it had always been with Tizzy. The girl always pretended to be so adult, so grown up, but then something came along and she needed her. And it was truly wonderful and Minerva liked having her daughter so close. And she was happy that she had now, probably thanks to Severus Snape, decided that she didn't want to hurry in a battle. But that her girl was so concerned about her as well made her realise what she risked every time she went out on one of those missions for the Order.

And now, now it seemed that Tisiphone had grown a crush on Severus Snape. The silly girl. Of course she had picked exactly the wrong boy, man, again. She had a knack for doing that.

That idiot boy she had been with last, had been one of those wrong types of men. Too pretty, too flighty, everything. Not that Tizzy knew that she knew, and not that Tizzy would know that she knew.

Well, at least Severus Snape wasn't a pretty boy.

"Severus Snape was a quiet boy," she began and ran her fingers through her daughter's hair. "I don't think he had any friends apart from Lily Evans."

"Who's Lily Evans?" Tizzy asked and blinked up at her.

"Someone in his year. I'm not sure what happened but eventually, he grew closer to a few Slytherins and he and Lily stopped being friends. I don't know why but he spent more time with those in Slytherin and they were all junior Death Eaters."

"And that's how he got in there?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know."

"Will he answer me if I ask him?"

Minerva smiled at her daughter. "Probably not, no."

xx

It was only a slight trembling in the fingers and that was alright. He had gotten off lightly this time. But then again, he had only brought him good news. He had told the Dark Lord that Dumbledore was beginning to trust him and that he had a secure position at Hogwarts and that so far, the old man was working towards putting all those in obvious danger from the Dark Lord into safe houses.

That had been, for the moment, enough for the Dark Lord. But unfortunately, he hadn't told him much either.

And so he was, two hours, a summon from the Dark Lord and a meeting with the old man, back at his desk. And wondered, again, how he would manage it all.

Teaching and those summons. He had to, he knew, but he didn't know how.

And in the morning, Tisiphone Dumbledore was coming for a bit of brewing. Maybe, just maybe, he could use her as a test subject for teaching.

_**xx **_

_**Thank you!**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

He had said come in, and she had. But he had not moved away from the cauldron and he stood there, in a white shirt and in black trousers and his back was so broad and strong and Tizzy had to focus hard not to sigh. It wouldn't do to sigh. Not at all.

She was better than that. Stealthier. Cannier. Oh but he was worth going after. Slowly. And she would, of course, had to find out more beforehand. Didn't know, yet, whether he was alone or not. Might just as well be that a girlfriend, or heaven forbid, a wife and children, that had made him switch sides. She knew of no other reason yet. But he was always alone. And he seemed unhappy. In a way. Sad eyes. Deep, dark, sad eyes that just begged to be looked in.

Oh yes, Tizzy knew that she was absolutely sappy when she was about to fall in love. She knew that she was still a romantic girl in a way. And he there, Severus Snape, was her new romantic hero. And he truly was a hero. Risking his life like that to spy? Knowing that it was important, necessary? He was still so young and he still knew what to do. For someone like him, she was gladly leaving all her reasonableness, all her level-headedness behind.

Ridiculous.

Utterly ridiculous.

He was perfectly interesting and his back alone in that white shirt was worth sighing over but she wasn't going to turn all mushy because of him. Not yet anyway. Maybe some time in the future she would stop being reasonable. She would stop being level-headed and she would completely fall head over heels. Right now, she would try to stop herself. As much as she could.

"Hi," she said softly and she could only hear her breathing for a moment after that. Her breathing, and her robes dragging on the flagged stones on the floor, as she moved towards him. She was now somehow glad that she had worn quiet shoes. No heels. Nothing that would make more noise.

It was strange, really. She had been down there, down in the same lab, a lab that used to be Slughorn's, and it had been different. With him in it definitely. He turned, the stirring rod in his hand, holding it between thumb and middle finger, his hair falling over his left eye, his shoulders, ever so slightly hunched, screaming, in her ears at least, for a long massage, and his head, hanging a bit. But his eyes, both of them, one veiled behind a curtain of hair, the other only surrounded by black, heavy lashes, were already boring into hers and she felt a strangely pleasant, wonderfully horrible shiver down her spine.

But she managed a small, hopefully a little mysterious smile and stepped towards him further. "What are you brewing?" she asked softly, and her voice did sound, surprisingly, even like her own.

"Burning Salve," he replied quietly. "Madame Pomfrey asked me to brew it. Ah, er, good morning."

"Good morning," she smiled still and had moved to his side. The robes, she knew, were pretty. And would, under certain circumstances, allow him to see a tiny bit of cleavage. If he was interested. If, on the other hand, he had a girlfriend, or Merlin forbid, wife and children, or he was on the same side of the river as her Uncle, then, oh well, she'd know.

But he looked. First chance he got. Just a fleeting glance but it was enough for her to know that he was not playing with other boys. And that was one obstacle out of her way. Well, something like that anyhow.

"Erm," she wasn't sure what to call him. Snape? Severus? Severus Snape?

"Yes?" he asked, with both of his eyebrows arched and that, that simple movement made another shiver run down her spine.

"Er, do you, I mean, could you explain what you do?" she asked, pulling herself together. But she truly couldn't help herself. She just, accidentally, sort of, touched his arm as she watched what he did with the mortar and the pestle. And he flinched.

Of course he flinched. Left forearm. She wanted to slap her forehead for her own stupidity. Why was she touching his left forearm? She had probably just activated the Dark Mark or anything.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "Did I hurt you?"

He shook his head sharply and when she looked up, she could see that he had clenched his jaw and worked harder on whatever it was in the mortar. Probably chamomile roots. Looked like it in any case.

"I'm sorry, Se...Sna...how should I call you? You can call me Tizzy, by the way. Everyone does. Even Peeves and Bob."

"Who is Bob?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the greenish mush in the mortar.

"The Gargoyle in front of my Uncle's office. If you call him Bob, he gets all huffy and annoyed," she smiled and looked at his profile. "And?"

And suddenly, he turned his eyes away and looked at her. Brown. Almost black, really.

xx

He was, essentially, Snape. Until the week before, everyone had called him Snape. The last person to call him Severus, or Sev, in her case, had been...Lily. And then the old man. Snivellus after that for a lot of people. Or, just Snape.

But this young woman, a girl, almost, was so different from everyone he had met lately. People he had met lately, Death Eaters, Muggleborns, those who were close to being Death Eaters, those that fought them, none of those were carefree.

And she was. She just came into that lab, like a whirlwind in pretty, long, blue robes, hints of cleavage showing. And no, he wasn't able not to see that, the way she bent forward. And he felt, after all those months that he still was a man. Even though his heart belonged to only one person. The one person he was there because. The person he was trying to save.

Not that anything would change because he saved her. She would never know. She would just be alive and well and that was all that mattered. Well, truth be told, he wouldn't mind Potter, well, falling, and he would take his child as his own, certainly.

But there were dreams that could never be. And that was just one of them. She had chosen someone else. Back all those years ago. She had not forgiven him, their friendship had not survived his one word. Spoken in humiliation. Spoken in pain. And she had not found it somewhere in her heart to forgive him.

And for such a woman he risked his life.

Someone who had not forgiven him one word. Someone who had never loved him. He risked his life for a woman who probably felt nothing but contempt for him.

He was insane for doing that. Absolutely insane.

"Are you alright?" the young woman, Tizzy, asked him and she had her hand on his back now.

"Yes," he replied and nodded. The hand was warm on his back. And small. And he looked at her and made a decision. "Severus. You may call me Severus."

He loved Lily. And that was why he was insane. Because she had held his heart ever since he had first seen her. And she had never let it go.

Still. No more thoughts about Lily. No more for today. He would focus on brewing and showing that girl how to make Burning Salve. Focus. Not Lily.

xx

"I'll go. Yes. I'll see you afterwards," Minerva McGonagall got up from her kneeling position in front of the fireplace. She summoned her black robes from her bedroom and fastened them quickly.

And in that moment, her daughter came skipping into the rooms, a broad grin on her face. She knew that grin. Tizzy had either found out about another secret of the castle, or she was in love. And since she had apparently spent the morning brewing with Severus Snape (house elves could be useful), it was rather the latter, she guessed.

But no time to lose at the moment.

"Hey Mum," she grinned and went to hug her.

"Tizzy, I have to go, but we'll talk about that when I come back."

And as if a switch was pulled, her daughter's face fell. Immediately. And all that talk of being good and patient and staying at the castle was right out of the window. Immediately. And she saw that she was very, very close to summoning her outer robes as well and telling her that she would come with her. So she shook her head instantly.

"No, Tizzy. Stay. Please," she said gently and touched her girl's cheek. "Tell your Father that I went. Albus knows where I am."

Reluctantly, so it seemed, Tisiphone nodded. "Will you tell me where you go?" she asked voicelessly and the colour had drained completely from her face.

"When I get back," she smiled gently and hugged her girl. "And I will come back, I promise," she added, whispering in her ear and brushing her hair back.

"Be careful," Tizzy said and Minerva felt her tighten her arms around her.

"Of course, dear." And with that, she let go and kissed her briefly before she left the quarters. It was just a bit of seeing what was going on. Just a bit of being the cat.

She only hoped that nobody was there who knew what she looked like in her Animagus form.

xx

Not again.

He had only been there. Not again. Not again. Not again.

As fast as he could, he prepared himself. Left the castle and threw his black robes over his white shirt, had put a Charm on the Potion he was brewing.

And he left. Once more. To be there when he was called. As quickly as humanly possible. He hoped, probably against hope, that the Dark Lord would not be there. That He had just called for someone of his Inner Circle. One of the Lestranges, probably, or Lucius Malfoy. Anyone. But not Him.

For once, he begged inside his head. Not Him.

Not again.

_**xx**_

_**Please review!**_

_**I hope you all had a lovely Christmas (or holidays or couple of days). I, of course, hadn't. But that was to be expected. Still, more chapters to come and we'll see how fast we move forward in time. **_


	10. Chapter 10

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**xx**_

Albus Dumbledore lent the woman, stepping out of his fireplace, a hand and watched for only a moment as she brushed the soot from her cloak. She looked up at him for a moment, then around the office.

"Changed a lot," she said softly.

"Headmaster Dippet's taste left much to be desired," he chuckled and pointed at a chair. "Please, sit. Tea?"

She nodded sharply and pulled a hairpin out and put a dark brown strand of hair back up again, touching the back of her head, apparently to check whether the rest of it was still in place. He smiled at her as he sat down himself and immediately, a tea tray appeared.

"Thank you for sending the owl," the woman said quietly and took a cup he had poured from his hand. Her hand was rather smaller than he remembered, quite cold and shaking ever so slightly.

"Thank you for coming."

Unblinkingly, she looked at him, her piercing black eyes on his own blue ones.

"I couldn't very well not come," she said sharply and took a sip of tea.

"I have rooms ready for you if you want to stay," he said and wasn't sure what else to tell this woman.

"That's very considerate of you," she replied politely and brought the cup up to her lips again and she didn't take her eyes off him for one second and he knew that woman did not trust him.

And she was very good at occluding her thoughts.

xx

It had been a quick meeting, really. And he had been angry. Not many things were going the way the Dark Lord had planned. The Weasleys were living in an Unplottable House, apparently. Hidden away, with nobody able yet to find them.

The Ministry was not as infiltrated as he wished it to be.

And when Severus could report no news from Hogwarts, the Dark Lord had naturally punished him. His insides hurt and he wanted to get back to Hogwarts, was almost tempted to even think the word _home_ in his head but no, no mercy today.

Lucius Malfoy pulled him away after the meeting and, somehow, the blonde man, older than himself and always somewhat like the Prince of Slytherin when he had been at school, seemed to have noticed him for the first time ever since he had left Hogwarts.

"Severus," he drawled arrogantly, and he was surprised he used his first name, "please come with us. We have a little get together planned."

Severus was close to frowning, actually. He had heard of those get togethers. Heard, yes, never been a part of it and he was happy about it. He took no pleasure in torturing people. None at all. But Lucius Malfoy was not to be turned down. If he did, no, he had seen what happened to people who turned down Lucius Malfoy. Or his sister in law. And he did not fancy to go insane from being over-exposed to the Cruciatus. He already had two rounds that night already.

So, he just nodded and the blonde man grinned toothily, took hold of his arm and Severus felt the uncomfortable tugging on his stomach and he felt himself spinning and the world was going upside down and he landed on his feet, somewhere.

It was dark. It was not somewhere he knew. And Bellatrix Black and her companion, that Lestrange person were already standing there. None of those had really paid any attention to him during their years together at Hogwarts.

He had been interesting in the beginning, apparently. Knowing more Dark curses than any 7th year. But being Lily's friend, that had made him unacceptable for the kind of Slytherin elite. And he had not cared. Not at all.

He had Lily back then.

Still, he had to focus on the task at hand now. Whatever the task was.

"Oh lookie who's here," Bellatrix Black spoke in a kind of babyish, creepy voice and she came towards him. "You're the half-blood that called the mudblood a mudblood in school."

Bellatrix Black had not been at Hogwarts during that time. And she still knew. It was hard not to swallow. It was hard not to taste the bile in his mouth. It was difficult to push this all back. The moment he had lost his only friend.

Didn't matter. Didn't matter. The woman never stood still. She danced on the spot, around him, around her companion, or, by the way they were kissing fiercely, boyfriend or husband or whatever. This woman was dangerous.

He tried to see where he was, scanned his surroundings. A few houses. Clearly a Muggle area. A graveyard, obviously, nearby and he a wall around it. So normal.

But there was nobody around, nobody to torture. Nobody to play with for them. Only a cat on the wall.

And his insides were turned icy cold suddenly when he remembered Tizzy talking about her mother.

And her mother's animagus form and what it looked like.

xx

It was cold on the wall and she had her tail around her body to keep herself warmer but it was well worth the wait. She was hidden in the dark and she knew nobody would recognise her. Even if someone saw a cat sitting there, nobody would know it was her. It was perfect.

First was Bellatrix Black. Well, not Black any more by what she had heard. Bellatrix Lestrange. And compared to her, her new husband was incredibly tame. But it was probably just a match made by either he-who-must-not-be-named, or by parents.

And that girl – woman – was horribly fidgety, couldn't stand still, twirled her wand in her fingers and blasted a rosebush apart quite silently. Her tail went tighter around herself when the second person in a dark cloak but without the silver mask appeared and was immediately pulled into a fierce embrace and a heated kiss by Bellatrix Black. Lestrange. And there she had thought that girl – woman – was incapable of such things.

There were two other people after that and both of them, she had taught. The other Lestrange and Avery.

And another minute later, Lucius Malfoy appeared. And behind him – no.

Severus.

She was glad she was a cat, to be honest. Otherwise, she might have gasped. What was he doing there? He was not supposed to be there. It was supposed to be the extended Black family. Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange and a few select others. And they were supposed to plan an attack on Muggles. Not Severus.

"Oh lookie who's here. You're the half-blood that called the mudblood a mudblood in school," Bellatrix cooed at Severus and circled him. And while Minerva usually could read humans quite well in her cat-form, she couldn't this time. He just stood and stood and let everything happen.

"We will meet in two nights here again," Lucius Malfoy said. "They have a fair," he grinned evilly.

Two nights. Muggle hunting. They would be there. They would fight. Even though, she would have to talk to Albus. If they were there, wouldn't it fall back on Severus? She would have to talk about it with Albus.

As soon as possible. Time was always of essence. And she was just about to jump from the wall when she couldn't.

And she couldn't move. Just couldn't move and she was in pain and suddenly, just suddenly, there was darkness coming towards her and enveloped her and she let herself fall in, away from the pain and the heaviness on her chest and legs and body.

xx

He had made sure that she had rooms in the dungeons. Though why the Headmaster had thought she still liked the dungeons just because she had been a Slytherin back when the world was young, she didn't know.

But at least she was close to her boy then.

Eileen Prince felt guilty. Simple. She knew there were a fair few people who shared the blame for Severus turning bad. She knew that her staying with the bloody son of a bitch had been not good for him. She knew his childhood had been far from perfect. Or even good. And the guilt had been pushed back as long as he was a Death Eater. He had chosen that path. When she had chosen the other side. Not quite openly. But open enough for the old man to know.

But when she had received the owl, telling her Severus was at Hogwarts and that he had switched sides, she had rushed there. Had packed a few things.

Wanted to be with her boy. Wanted to see him again after about 3 years. 3 years. And she knew that he needed support. No matter what because the old man was someone who only took. And rarely ever gave.

And truth be told, she hadn't been a good mother. Didn't even know whether she had it in herself but now that that bloody son of a bitch was gone, she was free. And she would give her best to support her son.

Eileen Prince, and yes, she had taken her maiden name again, pulled the hairpins out and brushed out her hair before she put the hair all back in a bun and secured it with the pins. She would see her son. Change of robes and she would go and see him. She knew where he lived.

And she would see him for the first time in 3 years. Her son, her brave, brave son.

xx

He apparated away with the rest of them. He had to. But he memorised where he was. And he had to get the cat, whether it was Minerva McGonagall or not, out from under the rubble of the fallen in wall.

Crazy Bellatrix Black. And just blasted the wall apart and had giggled when she had seen the cat had been buried underneath it before she spun on her heel and apparated away.

And he returned after only a minute and managed, somehow, to apparate to the other side of the wall, or where the wall had been and he fell on his knees without actually realising he was doing it and went at the fallen in stones manically with his hands. Didn't dare use magic. Might hurt the cat, or animagus, more.

He felt soft fur suddenly and slowed his movement, going more carefully. The cat was still breathing but it was laboured and there were heavy stones on her stomach he put away quickly before he scooped the animal, or animagus, into his arms.

He swallowed. Yes. The same markings around her eyes that Tisiphone had described. And he had to get this cat back to Hogwarts. Even if it wasn't her. Rather bring a cat to Hogwarts than letting Minerva McGonagall die underneath a wall.

He pressed the cat to his chest and closing his eyes, he apparated to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and the breathing of the cat was shallowed and more rapid and slowly, the cat opened her eyes, meowed very softly before she closed her eyes again and he knew he had to hurry. Hurry otherwise it would be over.

_**xx**_

_**Review, please!**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**Thank you, as basically always, to Alabaster Princess, who is always there for me and who I owe so much already!**_

_**xx**_

For a moment only, he hesitated. It was a mere split second but then, as soon as he was in the castle, he wasn't, for a moment only, unsure where to take the cat. He knew there that there was Hagrid the caretaker but he hadn't met him yet in his capacity as – whatever he was now. Madam Pomfrey knew about it. She knew about him. If he brought the cat there, Madam Pomfrey would (a ) know whether it was truly Minerva McGonagall and (b ) know where he had come from and where she had been and (c ) he wouldn't have to explain anything at all.

The Hospital Wing – he remembered where it was and, the cat, or animagus, pressed against his chest, he all but ran up the stairs. The cat made soft, mewling noises and the breathing of it was rapid and apparently painful. It sounded painful, it felt almost painful to him. And worse, the cat snuggled, almost, pressed herself, into his robes and her nose pushed against the crook of his arm.

"It's alright," he said to it gently and was tempted to slap his forehead. He talked to a cat. But after those words, it almost felt like she relaxed a bit but when he stopped talking, the cat tensed again and he had no other choice, really. "Just a few more steps," he said softly, "and we're in the Hospital Wing and if you're not Professor McGonagall, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will help you still. You will be fine."

He was glad the moment he could push the door to the Hospital Wing open and could stop talking to the cat and he was even more glad that he saw the Mediwitch sitting there, at her desk, bent over some parchments.

"Madam Pomfrey," he said and was surprised at how out of breath he sounded. He must have walked up quicker than he had thought.

"Severus," she gasped and was by his side in seconds. He did not mind at all that she still called him Severus. The way she had done when he had been a student. And had, unfortunately, spent quite a few times in the Infirmary when he had been young. Or not unfortunately. Just due to circumstances and a few Gryffindors. Anyway, he did not her calling him by his first name at all. Sounded better than when Lucius Malfoy said it.

"What happened?"

"Is that Professor McGonagall?" he asked and turned slightly, and found that he had covered the cat partly with his robes.

"Put the cat down here," the mediwitch said and pointed at her desk – and it had been cleared from all the parchments with just a wave of her hand. He carefully put the cat on the desk and judging by the gasp coming from Poppy Pomfrey, he had been right in hurrying. Judging by the gasp – the cat was Minerva McGonagall.

"Is it her?" he asked and leant slightly over the cat. It looked horrible. A leg mangled and bloody, the fur on her stomach matted with blood and a bleeding spot above the cat's eye.

"Hold her, Severus. The shoulders. I need to transfigure her back," Madam Pomfrey said breathlessly and pushed him to the head of the desk.

"But the...," he said and felt very foolish. It was simple, really, and he only had to draw his wand, he had not even had to think the words consciously. He had only wanted the desk to be larger. To hold his former Transfiguration Professor's shoulders on a decent sized desk, at least.

"Thank you," the mediwitch muttered and suddenly had her wand in her hand and began waving it in intricate pattern over the cat. It seemed to shimmer slightly, and blur – and a moment later, the blink of an eye later, Minerva McGonagall was on the desk, stretched out – and Severus held her down by her shoulders. And it was necessary, it seemed. The woman suddenly bucked against him and gasped obviously in pain and her eyes snapped open.

He had to look down, really and she sought his eyes out for only a moment before another yelp of pain escaped her throat. She blinked slowly, very slowly and seemed to nod her head a little while Madam Pomfrey summoned a vial of something. He couldn't take his eyes of that woman. He had acted, reacted, the right way.

But why – and he truly did not understand this – had she been there? Had the old man set a spy on him? No, it couldn't be. He hadn't been supposed to be with Lucius Malfoy.

But he would have to have words with him. Definitely.

"Severus, I," the woman on the desk gasped, trying to catch his eyes again but Madam Pomfrey was quicker.

"No, you don't talk, you drink that now, dear," she said sternly and had pressed the vial against the other woman's lips. McGonagall though shook her head and he could see why.

Anaesthetic Potion, basically. She would be out for a few hours and not feel any pain. Which was, the way he saw it, with blood still seeping from her stomach and her leg and her forehead, a good, a very good thing.

"Drink it," he said in the sternest voice he could muster and she, surprisingly, the sternest teacher of Hogwarts nodded and swallowed the potion. Seconds later, she lay sleeping and he was able to draw a deep breath.

"Severus, what happened?" she asked, her wand still hovering over the sleeping body of the Transfiguration Mistress.

He was about to answer when the door to the Infirmary was pushed open and he couldn't help but turn around and stare into the pale, shocked face of Tisiphone Dumbledore, staring at her mother, laying on the desk, bleeding.

xx

She had been bored. Nothing ever happened in that castle and well, maybe she could do something for Poppy. That was what she had thought. Until, yes, until she had pushed the door to the Infirmary wide open and there was Mum. Mum. Dead. Or out cold. She wasn't sure. Lying on a desk.

Blood. Everwhere. And her leg...and the robes were pushed up to her thighs and blood on her stomach and her head and blood everywhere.

She just ran towards that desk and didn't even realise that she pushed Severus away and bent over her Mother.

"Mum?" she asked breathlessly. "Poppy?"

"She'll be okay, Tizzy," Poppy smiled gently, and, with the tip of her wand, seemed to pull all the blood away from Mum.

"What? What happened? Is she really going to be okay? What happened?" she turned and saw Severus standing there. "What happened?" she asked him and she only heard him clear her throat and that was too much, somehow, in that situation, she stepped closer to him, a fist raised. "What. Happened. To. My. Mother?"

"A wall collapsed on her," he replied evenly and took a step back, a step, actually, towards the door.

"No, no, young man, you can't go yet. I'll have to check you over before you leave. But you'll have to wait until Minerva's patched up again," Poppy spoke sternly.

"Patched up?" Tizzy cried. "What does she have?"

The mediwitch sighed and waved her to her side. "Her leg is badly broken in two places, she has two broken ribs and cut above her eye. The ribs I have fixed and the bleeding looks worse than it is. The leg will need some time to heal and the cut is fixed within a minute if you would keep quiet."

She clapped her hand over her mouth and took a step back. She actually felt something behind her and spun around to see Severus still standing there and there was a bit of blood on the front of his robes. Her eyes widened in shock.

"Did you? Erm, I mean, did you save her?" she asked in a little voice and stepped closer to him again.

"I brought her here," he replied without an ounce of emotion in his voice and stepped away, again, from her. "And I'm going now."

"Severus!" Poppy cried after him but he had left through the doors again, very, very quickly.

There was nothing else to do now – she would thank him later, definitely – but now, now, she just needed to see if her Mum was alright. Nothing else to do but sit by her bedside.

xx

The dungeons were just as cold, just as damp, just as dark as she remembered. And she truly did not like them. Still, her boy lived there and she was waiting for him. He couldn't be far, she knew. She had just conjured a chair, had sat down, had taken a book from her pocket and had begun to read.

By page 76, she had grown worried. By page 98, she had looked up again, had been more worried.

And by page 134, she was close to storming in the old man's office, demanding to know where her son was but she calmed herself.

By page 142, she heard footsteps and instinctively, she got up, made the chair disappear and stuffed the book into the pocket of her robes before she straightened them and a moment later, just a moment later, really, someone rounded the corner and she knew, by the sounds of the steps, that it was him.

Her Severus. Her son.

She was not made for smiling and she didn't. But she looked up at him and he suddenly, quite suddenly, looked up as well and his eyes were quite huge and his mouth hung open and he stood stock still. Too still.

"Hello Severus," she said very gently and could watch how her son grew pale.

_**xx**_

_**Review please. **_

_**Sorry this is short (again!). My grandmother passed away last night and I've been only writing as a distraction really. **_


	12. Chapter 12

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

He stared at the woman standing there.

Black hair, dark eyes, clean, black robes dragging on the floor.

She was, obviously, still alive. Truth be told, he had not expected this. Had expected him to some day kill her. But then again, that didn't make much sense. He would have heard about it. He just hadn't really thought about her. Or maybe he had. Just never expected her to turn up there. Especially not there.

Mother.

Mother at Hogwarts. Standing opposite him. And he didn't understand. Not at all.

She even said something in greeting but there was a loud rushing in his ears and his eyes did not seem to work well. Maybe, just maybe it was an hallucination. She had never in her life talked so gently to him. He had been hit with one too many Cruciatuses now. That's what happened. Next he'll find himself in St Mungo's. Or dead. Didn't matter either way.

He blinked. But she was still there.

His mother was there.

At the castle. In front of his quarters. And she spoke.

"Albus Dumbledore told me you were here," she said gently and she took a step towards him.

No, he didn't want that. She couldn't be here. He didn't want her there. He looked her up and down and it seemed, just seemed, probably, that she had changed. She walked with her back straight for one. And he could not remember her standing so tall ever before. And he had never seen her in robes before. Maybe it was someone under the disguise of Polyjuice. Someone who tried to find out something. A Death Eater, maybe. Or someone from the other side.

Oh no, he would not be found out. This couldn't be his mother. His mother was a downtrodden woman. Someone who was under her husband's thumb. Someone who completely disappeared underneath said thumb. He shook his head and walked straight past her without saying anything. He would not be found out. No, he would let them know, whoever had taken the Polyjuice, that he was on to them. That he was not spied on.

"Severus?" he heard from behind him in an angry voice that he had never truly heard from his mother before, but he merely went to unward his door. He heard heels clicking on the stone floor and a rushing sound and a hand on his shoulder and he felt himself spun around by an invisible force. Not his mother. Mother did not have a wand any more.

"What?" he snapped and glared into the dark eyes of the person pretending to be his mother.

"I will not be ignored, young man," she glared right back and a finger poked painfully into his chest, "I fed you, I clothed you, I took care of you," she added but luckily his mother was shorter than himself. And he could look over the top of her head and that's what he did. She sighed and poked him once more. ""I am your mother, Severus and I will not be ignored. You can believe all you like but I'm your mother. When you were five, you fell off the bike that Mrs Henderson from next door let you use and that was the last time you came running crying to me," she said softly, "you had hurt your knee and I had to kiss it better."

He stared at her. Nobody knew about that. But his mother could have told someone that fact under torture. Slowly, he shook his head and she smiled gently. He had never seen that smile on her face. Well, he had. After he had fallen off that bike and she had carried him inside and had kissed his knee better and made sure there was a plaster on it. She had walked straighter then as well.

"Your favourite meal was fish and chips from the chippie down the street," she said. "And our money for that was always in the tin behind the pickled eggs that your father never touched."

He bit his lip. He remembered the tin and the coins and sometimes notes in there. He remembered leaving the house with his mother with a bit of that money and going down to the fish and chip shop. He remembered the expression on his mother's face when she continued speaking. The sad, withdrawn look. "And you were never allowed to tell your father."

He nodded slowly and memories resurfaced. Images. And he suddenly spoke without meaning to. In an empty corridor at Hogwarts. "What happened to him?"

"He died," she explained in a cold, very cold voice. "About six months after you left. I wrote a letter but since I did not know your address, I sent an owl and he returned with the letter," she paused, then still looked at him. "Do you think we could continue this inside of your quarters?"

He swallowed, then nodded dumbly before he finished unwarding his rooms. His mother was there. At Hogwarts.

xx

"Mum?" Tizzy held her mother's hand and looked worriedly at Poppy Pomfrey. "Is she sleeping?"

"I gave her an anaesthetic, dearest," the mediwitch replied. "And it'll take another hour or so before she will come around. If you stay here, I'll have a floo call to make."

Tizzy nodded immediately but she felt like any words were stuck in her throat. She had never seen Mum so weak. Never. Rationally, she knew that this couldn't have been the first time, Mum had returned from wherever it was she went to. But it was the first time, she had experienced it. She sat for along time by the bed that Poppy had put her in. She just sat and stroked her mother's hand. And it was in those minutes, those long, horrible minutes, that she realised how much she really loved that woman. Despite all the fights, despite her mother always knowing what was best for her, or thinking she did, despite her always wanting to have the last word, she truly loved her. Her parents. Her parents were the most important thing in her life. And maybe now, someone else. Someone to have a relationship with like her parents had.

"Dad," she whispered softly, stroking Mum's hand. "We have to let Dad know."

"That's all done," Poppy Pomfrey said, a hand on her shoulder. "He will be there in a moment."

"Oh, did you..."

"I'm gonna punch his nose in," her father ran into straight into the Infirmary, saw Mum and rushed to her side.

"Dad?" she asked gently and got up from the chair as he took her mother's hand and bent over her.

"What's he done to you now again?" he whispered softly and Tizzy had the feeling that she was not needed there, that she was not even wanted in her that moment. Her father kissed her mother's forehead and nose and cheek and lips and he kept muttering things she did not understand, things she did not hear. Or rather pretended she didn't hear.

"How long until she's awake this time?" finally he looked up, but at Poppy.

"45 minutes, an hour maybe," she replied softly.

"I'll be back by then," he replied almost aggressively and wanted to storm out of the Infirmary again, but resolute, lovely, wonderful Poppy stood in his way.

"No, you don't, Aberforth. She needs you more. She will have difficulty walking for the next few days," she shook her head.

Tizzy sighed softly. No matter how much she loved her parents. No matter how much they loved her, right now, it seemed to be a moment for both of them. She wasn't sure why but she knew, exactly, that her mother wanted to see her father first thing when she woke up and she left, silently, the Hospital Wing. She would come back later. In an hour, or an hour and a half. And she would help her mother. That was the only thing she could do. But now – it was supposed to be her parents. Not her and her parents.

She knew it was irrational, but seeing her father that way, seeing him being so worried, and so tender with her, it just made it clear, very clear, that she was not part of this. She was merely the child. And there were some moments, some times in their lives, when she was the fifth wheel.

And that was one of those times. Probably.

Besides, she would still have to thank Severus. It could wait, yes, but (a) she didn't want to wait and (b) fifth wheel. And, if she could, after saying thanks for rescuing Mum, she would go up to her uncle. And tell him what she thought about those dangerous missions.

'You can't do this,' she thought on her way down the stairs, 'I need my Mum. And I need Severus. Well, maybe not tell him that.' No, she didn't need him yet. But she wanted him to be there. And she wanted her chance with him.

xx

The silence was uncomfortable. But she didn't know what to tell him. She knew she had been wrong. She knew she had made mistakes. Huge, uncomfortably huge mistakes. She had not been there for her son.

And no, of course he had not rushed into her arms. He had not hugged her as he had done when he had been a very little boy and had not looked up with those pretty dark eyes and had told her that he loved her. Back when she had still been able to protect him. Back when he still loved her. Loved her unconditionally. Didn't know, obviously. And she just wanted to hold him and tell him that it was alright, that she was proud of him and that he would always be her son. That he would always be little Sev to her. Her brave little boy. No matter what his reasons were to turn away from the Dark Monster, that she would always be proud of him. That she would support him in everything he did.

But instead, she merely sat there and looked around the sparsely furnished room. And he, obviously did the same. Just sat and stared at his shoes.

"Do you have tea?" she asked after long minutes of silence.

"I can have an house elf bring something up, I think," he replied a moment later, rushedly.

"It's fine," she sighed. "Severus, I..." how could she explain to him that she had only realised after Tobias had died that she had not been the woman she had wanted to be? That she had, as soon as Severus had left, wanted to change things. Wanted her son to come back. When she had known that she had left him, with her behaviour, a lot earlier. This was not about him turning Dark. It wasn't about that. It was about her losing her son. And the fact that it hurt. But that she, as one of the Princes, one of the last of the one of the last Pureblood families, opposing he-who-must-not-be-named, could not accept a Death Eater as a son? Well, no, not true.

That she had been too proud and too stubborn to seek him. Too hurt, maybe, too.

How could she tell him all that?

She was rescued by a knock on the door and she had to admit to herself that the sigh she breathed was not a sigh of annoyance, but one of relief.

xx

She knocked on the door to his quarters and hoped that he was there. She would be really quick. Just thank him, maybe hug him to thank him and be up there by her mother again. If she was up. If not, Uncle Alb.

She waited outside for only a moment when the door opened and she looked into the surprised face of Severus Snape.

"Hey, I wanted to...," she managed to say before she could sneak a peek inside.

There was a woman sitting. A woman with dark hair and dark eyes and a scowl on her face and her mouth fell open. "Erm," she stuttered.

Older woman. Mother. She wore the same expression on her face that she had. Must be his mother. She could not honestly see him having a relationship with an older woman. And he apparently caught her looking, or staring, rather, at that woman and pushed the door open a little more.

"My mother," he said quietly and Tizzy smiled.

He had a mother. And she would get to meet her. Meet the woman that was responsible for making such an amazing, wonderful person.

She just brushed past him, and beaming, she came towards her. "Hullo. I'm Tisiphone. It's very nice to meet you, Mrs Snape."

_**xx**_

_**Please review. **_

_**For those of you who also read Dismantle the Sun, well, you know that my grandmother has died last week and the funeral will be Tuesday. I don't know how I will manage until then to update those two stories and I apologise in advance if it takes a little longer. I know you're used to something different from me but oh well, circumstances at the moment are just very, very bad. **_

_**Thanks for understanding!**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**Thanks to Alabaster Princess for not allowing me to shave my head. Amongst other things.**_

_**xx**_

The older woman arched an eyebrow, only one, mind, something that Tizzy had tried to learn to do for years, and shook her hand. Her handshake was firm and warm and Tizzy couldn't help but smile.

"It's Prince, dear," she said suddenly and Tizzy looked a bit puzzled. "My name. Prince. Not Snape."

"Oh," Tizzy shook her head. "Okay, Missus Prince."

The older woman smiled gently, "I'd prefer Miss, actually," she said and gestured towards a chair and she couldn't help but cast a look back at Severus. He wore a pained expression, as if someone had just – oh, of course, he had brought her mother in. That meant that he had been –.

"Severus, are you alright?" she asked and instead of walking in the direction of the chair, she was by Severus's side in a moment. "Poppy never had the chance to look you over. Are you terribly hurt?" Astonishingly, however, his pained expression only grew and his dark eyes became darker and even though she didn't know what she had done wrong, what she had said, she knew that he was, in that moment, hurt.

"Severus?" his mother asked behind her and suddenly, she was by her side in front of him. "What happened? Where did you just come from?"

But he just stayed silent. Stood there, ramrod straight, his hands by his side and his feet exactly parallel. He and his mother – that didn't seem to work out quite so much and again there was the nagging feeling inside of her – the feeling of being at the wrong place. Of being a third wheel. Of being not wanted there at the moment.

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on it for a moment and it was all she could do not to just put the next best of her fingers into her mouth and bite her nails. She was just getting over this anyway.

"Er, I'll just go then," she said slowly and smiled at Severus, then turned slightly, and smiled at his mother. "I'm sorry I just barged in here..."

"You stay," Miss Prince commanded without looking at her, only keeping her eyes on her son. "And you," she continued, being in front of him, her finger poking into his chest, "explain."

"He rescued my mother," Tizzy spoke softly and the eyes of the older woman darted in her direction for a brief second.

"You did what?" she asked him and her tone grew more aggressive and Tisiphone knew that she couldn't have stayed silent then – under the scrutiny of that woman but it seemed he could. He just stared straight ahead and she couldn't understand how he could not answer. He had done an admirable, heroic thing. Whatever it was that he had actually done. Had anyone tried to get that out of him yet.

"Do you know?" Miss Prince asked her and she, as she had known, buckled under the piercing glare of the woman.

"I don't know but he brought my mum in and she was very hurt and Poppy could probably only just fix her up. She bled and I think there are broken bones and Poppy said, she won't be able to walk well the next few days."

She arched an eyebrow again (and stupidly enough, Tizzy made a mental note to eventually ask her how to do it) and her eyes darted from Severus to herself. ""Who is your mother, Tisiphone?"

Tizzy cleared her throat. "Minerva McGonagall, ma'am," she replied and that made the older woman arch both eyebrows.

"Indeed. Minerva. I see," and with that, she turned back to her son. "You, young man, explain now."

But she had honestly never seen him that way. Almost like a petulant child, really. His lip, much like hers earlier, was trapped between his teeth and he seemed to be having a staring contest with his mother. But he just remained silent for a long while – until he turned back to Tizzy.

"I'm going to throw you out of my quarters now," he said coldly.

"What...but...?" she asked but his arm lifted slowly and even slower, his finger began to point at the door.

"Out. I did not ask you here. And Mother," she felt as if he sneered the word, "you can go straight with her."

"Severus, what?" Tizzy asked.

"Out!" he shouted suddenly. "Both of you, out!"

Tisiphone honestly didn't know what to make of it – what to make of him – but she nodded slowly, defeated and walked to the door – in slow motion. The handle in her hand, however, she turned her head. "Thank you for saving Mum," she spoke softly and disappeared through the door.

There was, probably, one thing she had just learned, and she made another mental note. Never push Severus Snape.

xx

He was used to being alone. He liked being alone. He needed to think and he needed to make sure that cut on his hip, concealed by coat and robes, was not bleeding any more and clean. He needed to check the bruises on his thigh and feet where he had carelessly hit himself when getting the cat out from underneath the rubble. He needed to see if he was otherwise alright. He needed to see that he got better as soon as possible. And he had to see the old man, had to tell him what would happen. Though with such a small group of people present and him being the only newcomer, maybe it wasn't smart to intervene. He would be revealed immediately. But no – even if he was, there were lives at stake. And from the way it sounded, a lot of innocent Muggle lives.

He needed, in short, those women out of his quarters. They were talking but he didn't listen. He was in pain. Blinding headache, his back was completely stiff and hurt. There were still tremors running through him from the Cruciatus. He needed them out.

But they were looking at him and talking. And if it meant being incredibly rude, he didn't care. He was ready to just collapse into bed, pull all the blankets, covers, eiderdowns and everything else which covered, over his head and just stay there. Give in to the tiredness. Sleep until that war was over.

Oh, but he couldn't do that. He would probably just go up and have a quick talk with the old man, then tend to his wounds, take a few potions for the pain and for sleep and just crawl into bed.

And even though he hadn't know where his voice had gone, he suddenly found it again, and it sounded oddly cold, oddly unemotional and terribly rude. Tisiphone was there, and she looked at him questioningly and so he addressed her first.

"Out. I did not ask you here." Then his eyes darted to his mother. Being here suddenly? Pretending to be nice and kind and loving and wanting to be there for him? A load of rubbish. She would just disappear again into the shell of hers and ignore the rest of the world, live in her own. She had done it before. She was not a good mother. She was just the woman that had given birth to him and had probably fed him the first few years. Not a mother.

" And Mother, you can go straight with her," he added and put all the venom he had inside himself – and that was a lot – in that sentence. He was a grown man now. He wasn't a little boy any more that needed Mummy. He was 21. Old enough to not need to be mothered any more.

His mother, or the woman who had birthed him, looked at him and he couldn't quite make out what her eyes wanted to say. He couldn't quite understand whether it was hurt in her eyes, or annoyance, or anything else entirely.

But at least Tisiphone Dumbledore left his rooms – something thrown over her shoulder that could have sounded like "Thank you for saving Mum." But he wasn't absolutely sure and a moment later, just a second, really, his mother was standing in front of him and her hands were on his chest – gentle hands, really, but every bit of contact, human contact, at this moment, was unwanted and he merely shook his head and stepped away. "Leave," he said, and after a moment hesitation, "please."

"Severus, I'm sorry," he heard her say but turned away. "I truly am." And with that, he heard the swish of her robes on the floor, and the door click open and shut.

Severus closed his eyes tightly, touched the hurting, probably bleeding hip (and he wasn't sure whether he had been hit with something or whether he had cut himself falling on the ground) with one hand and his hurting head with the other.

One more task. Just the old man. And then bed and sleep and being able to forget. Just for a short while, forget this day.

xx

"Minerva?" she heard a soft, gentle voice from somewhere, far, far away. "Minerva, wake up, love, it's me."

She blinked, the light too strong, too much light and wanted to shut them again, but a moment, before her lids connected again, she noticed a figure leaning over her, and the voice suddenly had a face.

"Aberforth," she croaked, her throat very, very dry and itching for something to drink. "What happened?"

"You were buried underneath a blasted wall, Poppy said. No," he shook his head, "don't try to get up. Just lie still."

"Severus," she remembered suddenly. Animagus. Cat. Bellatrix Lestrange shooting the wall she had sat on to pieces. Severus. Severus Snape that had looked for her and had brought her here. There were only fragments, quick images, fading again as soon as she concentrated on seeing them more clearly, but she knew he had carried her. In her cat-form. Had brought her to safety. Had saved her life. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," he replied. "And at the moment, I honestly don't care. I need to get Poppy. She has to check you're alright." He, darling husband, still looked down at her, worry etched all over his features and she smiled a little weakly and touched his cheek with a heavy hand.

"I'm fine, dear. Just tired," she yawned. "But I need to see Severus. He saved my life. I'm indebted to him."

"That can all wait," he suddenly sat down on the edge of the bed and kissed her forehead lovingly. "He will not run away."

"Oh but he will," she said immediately and knew she had to get up. Thank him, make sure he was alright, make sure that he had not received any injuries. "He will be called back."

"Not right now," Poppy stepped into her view.

"I need to get up, Poppy," she glared.

"I know you hate it here but this was quite serious."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not," both Aberforth and Poppy said at the same time.

"I am. I'm hardly in any pain and..."

"Hardly?" Poppy raised her eyebrows. "You will leave here when you're not in pain any more and not a moment sooner.

"But Severus..."

"I will send for Severus if you want me to. But you're not leaving here," she said sternly.

"And I will stay here for the time being," Aberforth smiled gently. "I was so worried about you. I will not let him do this to you again."

"Aberforth," she groaned. "You know I have to."

"Not after this. And what happened a fortnight ago. And before that. How often has she been in here in the past two months, Poppy?"

"Too often," the mediwitch replied. "You should be more careful."

"I am careful."

"That and he should send someone else or go himself to do his dirty work. I will not have you put yourself in the line of fire again."

"I'm not," she argued and against his hand on her shoulder, tried to get up. "Aberforth, don't be childish. Someone has to fight in this war and I'm..."

"My wife!" he shouted. "You're my wife and you risk your life and our life together every time you let him talk you into doing such stupid things. Waiting an entire evening on some wall because some Death Eater might come along. And then almost be buried alive. We could have never found you!"

"Aberforth, it was..."

"Unnecessary," he boomed. "I do not know why he always endangers my wife's life."

"Because I'm..."

"We all know that you're brilliant and one of the most powerful witches of this century, Minerva," he let go off her hand and paced. "But he uses you. Don't you see? Every other animagus could have sat on that wall. Why did it have to be you?"

Minerva sent a quick look at Poppy. Those conversations happened every time she returned with even the slightest scratch. Deep down, Aberforth knew that they were all fighting, in their own way, for what was right and against the Dark. She, on the battlefield if she had to, and him, listening and watching in the shadows.

And Poppy understood – gave her a clear sign to be careful – and made her way from the room she was lying in. It was difficult getting up and her leg gave her some pain. Out of thin air, a cane appeared by her side and without Aberforth, pacing and muttering about the stupidity of his own brother, she got up. The leg, indubitably, hurt. Shooting pain and she knew she would have to ask Poppy for some pain potions. Even though the mediwitch would tut and complain but in the end, she would give it to her. Or she would just ask – Severus.

Life Debt.

She owed him.

And she suddenly found that that was not the worst thing in the world to be indebted to this particular man.

Her husband, only now, noticed her trying to walk and was by her side in a second, holding her steady.

"You shouldn't be up," he muttered and Minerva knew that with that, she could end the argument. Quite simply, actually.

"I just got up to get a decent hug," she whispered and a moment later, he smiled, took her in his arms and lifted her a little of the ground and she smirked to herself before she looked up – and kissed him.

xx

"With all due respect," Severus said suddenly. "But you cannot let them do this. Even if I'm exposed."

"And what, Severus, do you expect what will happen when I tell the member of the Order to stand guard there?"

"That the Muggles will be safe," he replied hotly and Albus could see he was in pain. And exhausted. And needed a shower or a bath and a bed. Desperately.

"And you will be exposed," he replied gently. "It was dangerous enough that you went back there."

"It was not," he argued. "They would have just thought me weird for trying to save a cat."

"And this cannot be happening again. Severus, we have to let this happen."

"We cannot."

He smiled and offered a sherbet lemon to young man who merely glared.

"Severus," he sighed and sat down on the other side of the desk, "you are much too valuable than to risk over a few Muggles that might not even be killed. It is the greater picture we have to have in mind."

He seemed to think for a moment, then got up like a bolt. "Unbelievable," he muttered. "You have to do something."

"Alas, I cannot," he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Severus. But if, as you say, only a handful of people know about this, and since you are the newest member of that group, the suspicion would be on you immediately. And I don't think I will have to tell you, what Bellatrix does to those she thinks traitors to the cause."

He shook his head slowly and seemed to think, then shook his head at him. "I will do what I can to protect them. And if it kills me," and with that, he stormed out of his office and left him to ponder.

Yes, it was cruel to risk the life of Muggles. But he needed Severus Snape as a spy. Big things were about to happen and he needed to know. It was – for the greater good.

_**xx **_

_**Thank you!**_

_**Review?**_


	14. Chapter 14

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**I want to dedicate this to all of you who are stuck in the snow as I am.  
**_

_**xx**_

Very carefully, Severus tried to peel his trousers from the hip. It had bled, yes, and then the wound had closed on its own – and the blood had basically glued the fabric of his trousers to his hip. It hurt. It hurt and it hurt. It stuck and he was afraid of ripping it just off. He wanted to avoid, under all circumstances, for it to start bleeding again. It wasn't that he wouldn't be able to heal the wound himself with his wand and a muttered charm – it was more the fact that he did not want to bleed any more. Even if it scarred, in the state of mind he was in at that moment, it was preferable to losing more blood.

Slowly, and with unbuttoned trousers, he gave into the urge to limp as he moved to his bathroom. Warm water and patience. That was what he needed. He took his shirt off and toed off his boots and socks, only glancing quickly at his hands, cut from the rubble and shaking from the Cruciatus. He ignored them, forcing them to open the taps. Warm water in the bathtub and he could be able to peel it off. The trousers would be away and he could put salve on it. The salve on his hands, and whatever else he could find that needed tending to and he could finally get into bed. Maybe take Lily's picture out of the drawer and watch her smiling. For a moment only.

But first, this. The right foot into the tub, then the left – and since he was alone, he allowed a soft, quiet groan escape his lips. Moving hurt. But if he didn't get the trousers off now, it would be even more difficult and painfulin the morning. And in the morning, he had things to do, syllabi to check, potions to brew and avoid his mother and Tisiphone Dumbledore. Or rather, avoid all people. Wait for the Dark Lord to call him again. Preparing himself for what he would have to do to those Muggles. And figure out a way how to avoid it.

He closed his eyes and thought of Lily's smiling face and with a hiss, lowered himself into the warm water.

It hurt. It burned.

And yet, it had to be done. No need to complain about the pain.

xx

"Miss Prince?" Tizzy hated running in those long robes. Always had to make sure not to stumble over them. And that was exhausting. Even though she knew she looked best in them.

"Ah, you," she said, after stopping and turning. "Miss McGonagall."

Tizzy shook her head. "Dumbledore, actually. But Tizzy is just fine."

"Dumbledore?" she frowned. "Are you...?"

"Aberforth Dumbledore is my father," Tizzy replied, coldly. Always the same reaction. Always. "Albus is my uncle."

"Oh. I see," Miss Prince replied, nodding.

"And besides, my uncle does not fancy women," she retorted and forgot actually why she had run after that woman. She hated that kind of reaction. She was either met with unabashed admiration when people thought she was Albus's child (and really – Albus was as gay as they came. Couldn't be any queerer), or there was major glaring. Out of whatever reasons. And then – astonishment. Because really, everyone thought that Mum and Alb were an item. And that was one thing she had never understood. Mum loved Dad. And Mum was Alb's friend. But Mum did not love Alb the way she did Dad. She loved to bicker with him, yes, loved to tease him. But Alb and her? That thought alone made her want to gag. And he was just – gay. No secret.

"Well," the older woman seemed to have caught herself, "Miss Dumbledore, is there something I can help you with?"

Tizzy was taken aback by the coldness in the woman's voice and she remembered that she had wanted to ask about Severus. But no. Not that woman. The woman that she had seen in Severus's rooms, being so concerned, she could have asked. She could have talked to, she could have shared the worry for Severus with that woman. But not with that woman with the cold eyes.

And so – she shook her head. "No. I just wanted to say hello, really," she fibbed. "Will you be staying here longer?" she continued, very politely.

"I might," she replied instantly. "But I don't know for sure yet."

Tizzy couldn't help but arch her eyebrows. It was perfectly clear that this woman did not trust her and truth be told, that was something new for her. People actually had never taken her seriously enough to even think about trusting her or not trusting her. She was usually just the girl, being send away and out of the room. Or being just another part of the Dumbledores and as such, trustworthy (which was stupid, really. Just because of her last name).

"I see," she replied in her politest tone and nodded a little towards her. "Well, Miss Prince, I do hope to see you some time."

She had manners, after all.

"Yes," the other woman said and went her way – leaving Tizzy completely puzzled.

xx

The smartest, brightest woman he knew was his wife. That much was certain. Minerva McGonagall was the most powerful, most intelligent and most loveable witch he had ever met. Tizzy, his girl, was too young yet, but in time, she would give her mother a run for her money.

And the second on Aberforth's list of smartest, most intelligent witches was definitely Poppy Pomfrey. She was brilliant with those little spells that nobody saw. Not even he had been able to detect her putting the potion into the cup of tea she had given Minerva. But his wife, his Minerva needed her rest. And if Poppy made her take a rest by giving her a potion secretly – so be it. It would give him some time to have a conversation. A much needed conversation.

So – he pressed a gentle kiss on the cheek of his knocked-out darling and with a grateful grin at Poppy, left the Hospital Wing.

Words. Words with his brother. Yes, the fight against the Dark was important and it needed to be won. But he could not understand that it had always have to be Minerva. She could hide well in her animagus form. But especially because of that, she was in even greater danger. As a witch, with her wand, she could at least try and fight. As a cat, she was was more or less helpless. And buried underneath a wall!

No, it was alright. If Minerva wanted to fight, yes. But he had spies. He knew his brother, the man who considered himself the big general of this war, had people spying for him. Had people informing him. But oh no, he had to risk the most powerful witch of their world all the time. Profanely.

No. He would not have him risk her like that again. Imagine Minerva McGonagall dying underneath a wall. Never found.

No. He didn't even want to imagine that.

"Any stupid Muggle sweet," he hissed at the Gargoyle and surprisingly, it sprang to the side immediately, grumblingly, but immediately. "Thank you," Aberforth cried and ran up the stairs. Dear Albus had another thing coming.

xx

He bit the inside of his cheek and, sitting in the warm water in the tub, he lifted his behind and slowly, carefully, he peeled the wet trousers down. The cut looked – bad. Deep and despite all his best efforts, the water had made the wound, or parts of it, moistened and softened and it had began to bleed sluggishly again. Not the entire length, about 6 inches, he gathered, but it stung and he had to get out of the water. But he was dizzy and cold and hot at the same time.

He heaved himself, despite the nausea he felt, and despite the trousers still clinging to his legs out of the water and grabbed his wand.

Shutting his eyes tightly, he pointed it at the trousers first, vanishing them, then at the wound. Muttering softly, trying not to interrupt his own spell by gasps and hisses of pain, he closed the wound magically. That would scare for sure but it didn't matter.

What mattered at the moment was sleep and the softness of his bed, calling for him. His legs, he saw now blurredly, were blue and purple. Didn't matter. He would heal himself decently when he had slept. Not now.

He stumbled out of the bathroom, not bothering to dry himself off, and collapsed on his bed, not able to covering himself up before he fell into an exhausted sleep.

xx

It was a glaring contest. It was honestly nothing new for either one of them to be doing that. Either one of them being angry at the other for one thing or another. It had been this way ever since they had been children. There was some sort of underlying rivalry between them, though never for anything obvious. Or maybe, Albus wasn't sure, it wasn't rivalry. Maybe it was merely their difference in character.

Albus knew that he was to a certain extent ambitious. Not ambition for a political office, but maybe for making sure good ruled the world they lived in. Ambition to prevent evil and dark wizards from taking over. And if the public had chosen him to be a kind of leader, who was he to turn this down?

Aberforth's ambition lay solely in protecting his family. His wife, his daughter. Keeping them save. And Albus understood that. He loved Minerva, he loved Tisiphone. And he loved Aberforth. And he would give his life for either of them. But they would have to understand – and Minerva did at least and Tisiphone was too young to understand – that there was more at stakes at this moment in time than them. He expected them, with the exception of Tizzy, probably, to extent the same courtesy to him. To give their life, if it had to be given, for him. And for the fact that they had the duty of helping the Wizarding World and protecting that as well. Aberforth did not understand, and he wouldn't expect him to, that his family would vanish as soon as the Dark took over.

Yes, yes, it was bad what had happened to Minerva and he was glad Severus had been there. It wouldn't have done for them not to find her, not to rescue her. He would have lost one of this most precious, most capable – dare he say it – warriors. Minerva was powerful. And he alone, if given the chance, could take down a dozen Death Eaters. And maybe she had been careless, sitting on the wall when she knew Bellatrix Lestrange was not quite right in her mind.

"Have you seen her?" Aberforth asked suddenly, never taking his eyes off his. "Have you see what she looks like? What could have happened?"

Albus shook his head. "No, I haven't seen her yet. But Tizzy informed me and Severus informed me."

"Informed you," he snorted. "Informed you. Yeah, right, You're never there yourself, are you? Always sitting up here and sending your unworthy little warriors to death." He shook his head. "My wife could have died," he spat. "And you still sit here and ponder over one thing or another."

It was always the same argument. Always the same things he accused him off. And it got tiring.

"And now you can't even do anything," Aberforth continued, "because Severus was there. And Snape was there. And if you send a battalion of Order members, or Merlin forbid, Aurors there, he will be exposed immediately. You almost killed my wife for nothing," he hissed.

Albus tried not to show the surprise on his face. His little brother had understood, something he had not quite expected.

"So surprised then, brother? You still underestimate me. You always have," he said. "Stop endangering my family unnecessarily. If there is a fight, I will go and I will let Minerva go. But not for your crackpot schemes."

Without giving him the chance to reply, Aberforth turned away and left his office and Albus, once more, felt utterly alone. They just did not know what was at stake. And that he had to use the best people he had. Otherwise, they stood absolutely no chance against Voldemort.

xx

Poppy Pomfrey was a level-headed woman. She was, most of the time, reasonable. Everyone who had met her would say so. And it was true. She tolerated no nonsense from no one. But seeing Minerva there – again – Aberforth worried sick about his wife – again – and Tizzy, for the first time witnessing her mother coming back wounded, it made her want to throw something against the next wall. A bedpan, maybe. Or, actually, put her foot through something. She was sick of this war, she was sick of tending to those that had been mangled and hurt by Death Eaters. She wanted peace, desperately wanted peace – wished for a time when the biggest worry would be students being careless, or coming to her with Quidditch injuries.

And not a time when she wasn't so sure herself whether one of her best friends could ever walk without a limp again.

Yes, yes, rationally, she knew it was all necessary. That someone had to fight this bloody you-know-who and that, despite everything, the most capable people were actually at the castle. But she wanted a time when all the teachers could focus on teaching the young. And not being overly tired, overly exhausted, stretched thin and still trying to do their daily duties. Was that too much to ask?

It broke her heart to see Tizzy sitting at her mother's bed again. Maybe, Poppy thought, she should have waited until knocking her out. Give the girl a chance to talk to her mother. Well, she couldn't change that now. But the girl looked sad and she felt it her duty to go and console her, talk to her, hug her, when the door to her Infirmary was pushed open and Aberforth came in again. He did not even spare a glance at her, instead walked straight to his daughter, his girl and put a hand on her shoulder.

Tizzy jumped a little, then noticed it was her father and got up, Poppy could see her eyes swimming in tears, and he enveloped her tightly into his arms. There was no single word spoken between them and it put a smile on the mediwitch's face. Those two always had had a strong bond, ever since she had put the newborn, unnamed yet baby into his arms. She had never seen Aberforth so emotional, so happy, so proud.

Poppy had not a lot of chances to see those two together closely like this – sometimes at meals, sometimes when Tizzy had returned for the summer or Christmas from school. But she knew they were close, very close and Aberforth was a brilliant father. He just held his girl and consoled her the way Poppy could have never done. He swayed her gently, kissed the top of her head from time to time, let her snuggle up to him.

She did not dare to disturb this. They would have to stick together. All three of them. That was the only way to get through this war, this horrible time sanely.

All of them had to stick together. All of them had to support one another and in that moment, Poppy Pomfrey decided that she would do something about this. Do something for morale. And she decided to invite them all to dinner as soon as they were up and about again. All of them on one table, in her quarters, not the Great Hall.

All of them.

xx

Eileen Prince had seen a lot in her life. She had made quite a few wrong decisions. She had married the wrong man, had been cut off from her family, had not been able to give her son the home he deserved. But she had never expected to find Hogwarts so cold, and so forbidding. Maybe it was because she had never been thrown out by her son before. Maybe it was because she only now realised that the girl that had been so worried about her son was a Dumbledore. And she resented Albus Dumbledore for the way he was using people – and had always used people.

But late at night, in the rooms he had given her in the dungeons (honestly, as if he owned the castle), she stood, paced, sat, couldn't find the right peace of mind to go to bed and to sleep.

She felt that there was something about the girl that she wanted to trust, but couldn't. Well, trust did not come easily to Eileen Prince. She had been abused by that husband of hers, and had never gathered enough strength to leave him until he had died. And that marriage had cost her the last of the belief that there was something, anything good about human beings. And still, that girl had wanted to ask her something, wanted to tell her something. And had not dared.

She shrugged to herself. Maybe, just maybe, she would find the time to talk to her again. No, she would make the time. And ask, specifically, about the nature of her relationship to her Severus. And would find out where exactly that girl stood. Probably good as gold. Oh no, she wouldn't make it simple for her – but the concern for her Severus had been true, had been honest, had been genuine. And she seemed to have her own mind. Had noticed she didn't trust her, and had immediately switched to polite coldness. Eileen appreciated something like that.

Maybe the girl wasn't all together bad. Maybe she was more like Minerva McGonagall and that had been someone she had always been able to tolerate. And quite frankly, she did not know Aberforth at all. Maybe she would just, if she had time in between looking after her son (when he allowed that), and talking to him, see if she could talk to all those people.

And get more actively involved.

It was all for Severus. To make amends. To make him believe her again. To restore that faith in her he had lost when he had been too young.

Severus.

He had not been well. Dark circles around his eyes. That frown on his face.

A strong maternal instinct, not felt for some years, flared up in her, burning, choking her, and she rushed to the door. Had to see him. Even if he threw her out again. She needed to make sure he was fine. He was her boy, wasn't he? And if they didn't stick together, if she didn't support him, who would then? That girl, despite her best efforts was probably not strong enough.

She all but ran along the corridor and within moments, she was in front of his door. She had no idea what his password was but stiff looking man in the painting guarding his door stared at her with obvious interest.

"I need to get in," she said sternly.

"Password?" he drawled.

"I don't have it. But my son is in there."

The painted man shook his head. "Can't do it."

"Eileen Prince," she suddenly heard behind herself and spun around to look into the pearly white, almost transparent face of the Bloody Baron. She closed her eyes briefly. Had quite forgotten about him.

"Yes, Baron," she bowed her head a little.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you here again," he said gently. Eileen had never truly understood why everyone else had been afraid of that particular ghost. He was the most friendly of all of them. To her in any case.

She tried to smile a little. "I didn't think I'd ever return," she replied reverently.

"Come to your senses than and killed that husband of yours? Honestly, girl, giving up your family for someone like him? Not an ounce of magic in him."

She felt herself blush like a young girl and shook her head. "No, your Lordship. He died."

"I can't say that I am sorry," he replied. "And your son made you come back here?"

"The worry for him, Baron," she replied quietly.

He nodded curtly. "He will do Slytherin proud, Eileen Prince. Other than Tom Riddle who only brought death and all for his own thirst of power," the ghost shook his head sadly and looked into the distance for a moment before he focused on her again. "Go in, Eileen Prince. He is hurt, I'm told. Support him in those dark times."

"She doesn't have the password," the man in the painting piped up.

"Is that a problem, Eisenstein?" the Bloody Baron asked dangerously.

"I'm under strict..."

"Let her in," he boomed and almost immediately, the door swung open. "Go in, Eileen Prince. And don't let him scare you away again."

"Thank you, my Lord," she bowed her head again and he smiled benevolently.

"You know where to find me, Eileen Prince. Do," he spoke softly and floated away down the corridor. She smiled. Now that was an encounter she would cherish. And she would certainly seek him out. He always used to have good advice for her, had always kept her company back at school. And she did not doubt at all that it would be the same way now.

It was almost dark in his rooms and she more or less stumbled to find his bedroom but there was a door ajar and she pushed it open slowly.

"Oh my boy," she whispered in shock when she saw him lying there, uncovered, naked, a huge gash on his hip, the arms and legs covered in bruises and Eileen Prince, the maternal instinct growing more prominent in herself, rushed to his side, covered him with a summoned blanket before she bent down, brushed the hair from his face and kissed his forehead.

_**xx**_

_**Please review! I wrote an extra long chapter for you, so I'm entitled to expect reviews, or a little bit of feedback, aren't I? I'm not greedy or anything but seeing the stats makes me sad since about one in 40 of you actually drops me a line. **_

_**Thanks to those who do all the time! **_


	15. Chapter 15

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx **_

_**This one dedicated to notjustme22 – since she discovered that I am a sucker for references of any kind and noticed that the man in the portrait might just have made films ;)**_

_**xx**_

In puzzlement, Severus stared at himself. First in the mirror – and when he didn't trust it – in person, looking down at himself. A finger was put onto the spot where only hours before, a wound hat been. Nothing but pink, new, soft skin.

He had not healed himself the night before. He did not remember much, but he remembered falling into bed tiredly after just barely closing the wound. It had still been there. It was not now. He shook his head to himself. Nobody had access to his quarters except house elves. And he doubted they would dare to heal him.

Nobody else could get in though. And he did not believe in spontaneous healing. It had never worked before. His portrait was under strict orders not to let anyone but him in, except if they had the password. And nobody had it. He had not told anyone. And why should he?

No. Something was wrong and he felt goosebumps on his arms and legs, thinking who had seen him like this – who had been able to break into his rooms.

His bruises, gone. Everything gone. He felt fine – physically. And he never felt fine on a morning like this. And yet, it scared him. It scared him a lot that someone – even if it was just an house elf – had done this while he had slept. He could not be so careless. He would have to secure his rooms even more tightly – and not only with a portrait of a dotty person and a password nobody could guess. He would probably have to resort to simple Muggle locks with an Anti-Alohamora-Wards. Or search for a better way. But he would have to find out who had broken in. And who had healed him.

He dressed quickly, black trousers, white shirt and his robes over the shirt. He knew it was very formal, especially for the summer but he felt protected in those clothes. Even though he knew he would have to think about a bit more clothing on his upper body. Maybe a sort of coat underneath his robes. The incident the day before had shown him – clearly – that he would have to sometimes hide things, wounds or scratches. And that would only work with as many layers of clothing as possible. And black, while he liked it, would conceal a lot. A trip to Madam Malkin and a coat, maybe a frock coat, and he would be set. He would be hidden.

No, really, he needed more security around himself now. Especially with his mother poking around in the castle now.

His mother.

He still could not believe that she had come there. Obviously approved what had he had done. Obviously in some sort of contact with the old man. Because – how else should she know?

Or was she not on the light side? Was she sent to him from the Dark Lord? His eyes widened a fraction. There was only one way to find out. Only one way.

And for that way, he needed time and a potions laboratory.

He would make her say the truth. Tell him the truth, unveiled. She would not be able to lie to him. He knew how to brew it and she had asked for tea that day before. He would try and be civil but would not tell her anything – until the potion was finished. And then he had the truth.

Actually, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense to always have some Veritaserum with him. It would not take that long to brew and once you ignored what everyone said about it and bent the recipe a bit, it was really rather simple. Not simple if you followed the textbooks.

But he could do it and he would. However, first things first. And the interrogation of the portrait guarding his door. Dotty, weird Eisenstein had a lot of explaining to do. Especially since he had no fireplace and the door was the only way in.

He pushed the door open and closing it firmly, he stood in front of the portrait and cleared his throat.

"Eisenstein," he said in a cold voice. "Who did you let in last night?"

"Severus Snape," he heard behind him and immediately turned around, his wand in his hand – at the ready – and suddenly seeing that it pointed at a ghost.

"Baron," he said sheepishly and felt very stupid, pointing his wand at a ghost he should know.

"There is no need for that," the ghost said gently. "And no need to try and hex Eisenstein. He acted on your orders but those are the dungeons. And as such, I can overrule the portraits down here."

Severus could only look dumbstruck and he knew he should ask who he had let in – but he couldn't open his mouth he couldn't speak when the ghost raised his hand.

"The person I let in, Severus Snape, meant not harm. But I cannot reveal who it was and neither can poor Eisenstein. So do not ask."

He felt himself nodding dumbly. A strange sort of power that he had never noticed as a student at Hogwarts, radiated off the ghost and kept him – silent.

"Now go, Severus Snape and gather strength. You will need it but you will know what to do and it will be the right thing," the Bloody Baron said cryptically and floated away, leaving him to stand there – and because he didn't know what to do, he glared quickly at the portrait and then rushed up the stairs. He was right. He needed to be fit tomorrow. Needed to have his strength.

xx

She had not dared to stay. Had done her best to heal that nasty gash and the bruises but what would she tell him when he woke up? 'Good morning, Severus, I was worried and you looked half-dead there'?

No. Certainly not. She had left. And it was better this way and if the portrait and the Bloody Baron stayed silent – and if Severus did not wonder too much who had helped him during the night, he would never know. And at the moment, she wasn't sure she wanted him to know. She wanted to help him – but he would probably never accept it. She would have to keep silent about it.

And she would.

Eileen had taken her breakfast early, had gone for a walk across the grounds, grounds she had not seen in a very, very long time, and had then settled on a tree at the edge of the Black Lake, watching the Giant Squid how he splashed around, soaked up sun with his tentacles. She had forgotten how soothing it was to sit leaning against a tree and just watching, feeling the sun on her hands and arms and on legs and face. She hadn't done that since – well, since she had married, probably. Or since Severus had been born.

It felt good, to be honest. And it made her lose herself in watching the Squid and the water and the sun reflecting. It made her stop thinking about the rest.

She closed her eyes for only a brief moment, the briefest of moments really – and this feeling alone was heavenly. Being able to close her eyes – and still feel safe.

xx

She had discharged herself. Again. If she listened to Poppy, she would never leave the Infirmary. Ever again, probably. And Poppy was always so worried about her. She had to do what she had to do. And well, Poppy did what she had to do. Naturally, but she hated being in bed and being forced there.

And Tizzy was out somewhere after they had had breakfast together in the Infirmary under Poppy's watchful eyes, and then, when Poppy had not looked, she had merely disappeared. After Tizzy had left. Had scared the girl enough as it was. Especially since she could not really walk without crutches – but she was very good at Transfiguration after all – and transfiguring something into crutches posed absolutely no problem.

But she would have to find Severus and thank him and talk to him briefly. She owed him her life. He had rescued her. He had saved her life, and she was very, very grateful, obviously.

She just rounded the corner, hobbling on her crutches, and a cloud of black, right there in front of her, exited the library. Black hair, black robes.

"Severus!" she called out and the black cloud slowed and turned around briefly and the black cloud was indeed Severus. Carrying a stack of books. He did not stop, he did not turn, his head snapped back into the direction he was going and he walked away from her, his head shaking a little, and his robes too wide around his legs and therefore, slightly billowing.

"Severus!" she cried and hobbled forwards on her crutches. "You do not walk away from an old woman."

"I have things to do," he threw over his shoulder, "and no time for idle chit chat."

"No idle chit chat," her voice carried through the corridor. "Will you stop?"

"I am extremely busy, Professor McGonagall," he replied over his shoulder and continued walking.

"Severus!" she cried again – well, almost shouted to be honest but he didn't slow done. "I know spells for children to bring them back and I won't hesitate to use them if you don't stop," she threatened and that seemed to have the effect she had hoped it would. He stopped alright – but with an expression on his face that clearly spoke that he did not want to talk to her.

"What?" he snapped, and the stack of books, she noticed as she came closer on her crutches, was bigger than she had thought. And he seemed to have a little trouble balancing them. Daft boy for not using a spell. Even though – some books did not take well to being spelled to stay in place.

"First of all," she said and came to a halt in front of him, resting her arms from the exhaustion of having to be on them all the time, "we are colleagues now. And as such, please do call me Minerva."

He arched an eyebrow, nodded sharply, but said nothing.

"And I want to thank you," she began and at that, he groaned quietly, "for saving my life," she finished, her voice sterner. He merely rolled his eyes.

"I have work to do," he said merely.

"Why don't you want to hear a thank you?" she asked, puzzled but he did not reply, he merely turned and walked his way with his books.

And no, Minerva was not angry at him – merely wondering. And very confused.

xx

She needed her tree and needed to think and Tizzy needed both of those things quick. She ran down towards the Black Lake, the morning sun tickling her nose and about halfway from the castle to the, she stopped for only a moment, and slipped her shoes off, and continued to run barefoot.

Mum hurt, Severus not well, Dad very angry at Alb and Poppy being worried about all of them. This war was overwhelming. And it was overwhelming her. The entire situation was overwhelming her.

Severus throwing her out and the worry about her mother and seeing Dad so worried, the entire situation – it was just too much. She ran and felt tears pricking in her eyes. She had not cried the entire time. She had been brave and she had tried to understand.

But her parents had always kept everything from her. She had never known the realities of what this fight against he-who-must-not-be-named entailed. She had heard about fights, yes, about sort of battles, duels, but she had never, never heard from her parents – or from Alb – how hurt people got. And it had only been a few weeks since she had finished school and had returned.

And now all this cruelty of war was washing over her like a wave, pulling her down and twirling her around and threatened to drown her.

Tisiphone did not know how to deal with it. She had not been prepared for it, nobody had ever talked to her about it. Nobody had ever told her anything and she felt, as much as she was worried about her parents, anger at them for protecting her the way they had, for sheltering her so.

She ran it off – or tried to – but she still couldn't stop her crying, it was just that she felt it needed to get out. Anger and frustration and worry and fear. All of this inside of her.

She ran and panted heavily, blended with tiny sobs, leaning against the tree and suddenly – jumping because there were two eyes looking up at her.

"Miss Dumbledore," the voice belonging to those eyes – Miss Prince's voice spoke and it was the kind voice she had used with her son.

"Miss Prince," she bowed her head and wiped the tears off her cheeks and eyes.

"Is your mother alright?" she asked and Tizzy could only nod. "Sit, girl, sit."

Tizzy did – and the woman still looked at her and seemed to think about something for a long, long moment and in that long moment, her eyes softened.

"I didn't know you were here," Tisiphone said a little helplessly. "I wouldn't have come then."

"Why are you crying?" Miss Prince asked – matter of factly and still looked at her and suddenly, maybe because her eyes looked like Severus's, or maybe because her voice sounded so kind, or maybe because she felt that she could trust this woman, Tizzy began to blurt out everything.

Her fears, her anger, her worry and her helplessness. She knew she spoke very rapidly and quickly and stumbled over sentences and words and sometimes, she knew she did not make much sense but the older woman's eyes never left her and her eyes never stopped being warm and kind and inviting to tell them more. And despite everything, despite the fact that the woman did not speak at all, merely nodded from time to time, she knew that she listened.

It all got out, and it was only after long minutes that she ran out of steam and realised what she had done. She blushed profoundly and that put a smile on the older woman's face.

"Got a bit carried away, eh?" Miss Prince asked, gently mocking and when Tizzy blushed even more, she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"I'm sorry, Miss Prince," Tizzy stuttered. "But Mum being hurt and Severus throwing me out and everything and I like Severus very much and he still threw me out and I worry about him and I just..."

Miss Prince smiled broader now and there was something that sounded like a chuckle. "I didn't know my son had an admirer."

"I, erm, no, it's not, I erm," Tizzy stumbled over her own words again and she had never known her face could grow so hot.

"I am glad he has someone to worry about him," she smiled and touched her cheek with the back of her fingers. "You are not like your uncle at all."

_**xx**_

_**Thank you! Please review!**_

_**I hope this cleared up why Tizzy might come across as a little naïve. Let's be honest, she is 18 – she is entitled to a bit naiveté. **_


	16. Chapter 16

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**xx**_

It was almost a natural law by now that Minerva McGonagall could not be kept in the Infirmary for any longer than she herself deemed necessary. And that was usually only about half an hour – only so long until her wounds were closed and she could at least hobble, or maybe crawl, out of it again. The last time, Poppy remembered, that she had stayed longer voluntarily had been round about eighteen and a half years ago – the night when Tisiphone had been born right there, at Hogwarts. And she had only stayed longer because Poppy had made it clear that the girl was not to leave yet – and Minerva could not be parted from her daughter.

So, it had not been truly surprising for Poppy that Minerva had discharged herself the day before – and that she was trying to avoid the mediwitch now on the crutches that had once been a stethoscope and a thermometer (and she would get those things back for sure). But what Minerva did not know was that Poppy had no intention of chaining her to the bed. Not at the moment anyway.

At the moment, she was doing her inventory of potions she would need to brew before the start of the school year (she had students to think about as well). Old Slughorn had never helped with them, she had always made them on her own, but maybe Severus would. If she asked nicely. And didn't bother him too much with it. Otherwise, well, sleep was overrated in any case.

"I'll need more Pepper-Up this year," she muttered to herself and made a note on the clipboard she had in her hand.

"Erm, Poppy?" she heard Tizzy behind her and spun around, smiling at the girl she was like an aunt for.

"Something wrong?" she asked and put her notes on her desk before she gestured towards the chair and Tizzy, with a nod, sat down just as she did.

"No, nothing wrong but, I've been thinking," she started and Poppy arched an eyebrow slightly mockingly.

"No, honest, I have been thinking and I made a decision."

"A decision? Concerning what?" she asked, gently, and let her eyebrow drop into normal place again.

"Me. I, erm," she blushed a little and Poppy chuckled silently – she knew the girl well, and hesitation like this was usually not Tizzy's way.

"You know you can talk to me, dear."

Tizzy nodded. "Yes, I know but," she sighed, then her gaze hardened a little and she seemed suddenly quite determined. "I wanted to ask you if you'd take me on as an apprentice."

"Oh," Poppy muttered. She had not expected that. The girl had helped her out eventually, she was very organised and seemed not that easily shaken – except when it came to her mother, which was rather natural. But no, she had not expected that at all. Tizzy had always made it abundantly clear that she wanted to take some time when deciding her career and her future. "How come?"

The girl swallowed and nodded briefly. She had probably expected that question. "I can't fight yet. Mum won't let me and I'm not sure I'm ready to do it in any case. But I want to help. Yesterday, after I've talked to Miss Prince, I thought that I could help this way. I want to do some good. And everyone here is doing something, except me. Alb just said that I should be my happy self and would help the morale like that but it's not enough. I want to be a healer."

Poppy smiled at the young woman. This was less than eloquent. Definitely not rehearsed and judging by the sincerity of her face, she knew she meant it. And yet, this was a decision that shouldn't be made easily.

"Being a healer entails a lot of things, dear. It means that you have to brew potions, have to be awake within a second if there is an emergency, it means nights of not sleeping, constant tiredness and still always being able to do your job. It is a difficult profession and your decision should not be made lightly."

"I'm not making it lightly."

"Don't interrupt me. It entails a lot of things and it is a difficult job. But I am willing to let you try if that's what you want," she said determinedly. "On certain conditions, Tisiphone," she knew her voice sounded businesslike, almost cold. But this was necessary. Just because she loved the girl didn't mean she could mollycoddle her. If she wanted to learn she would – and it would not be made easier for her, despite their familiarity.

"Okay," Tizzy nodded. She seemed quite certain. "And those are?"

"The conditions I will explain when we formalise it. I have to register you with the Ministry, you do know that, don't you?"

She nodded again but remained silent, listening.

"And we will try it for two weeks. I will treat you like an apprentice for the next two weeks and we will both evaluate after that if you want, and can, continue. Is that clear?"

"Two weeks trial," she nodded. "Yes."

"Alright," Poppy almost did not recognise the solemn young woman there. Something seemed to have changed within the last days – maybe her mother's injury, maybe the closeness she had to the fight against he-who-must-not-be-named now, she wasn't sure. But something had changed. "Now. Are you willing to start right away?"

"Yes, of course," she replied and the corners of her mouth twitched slightly – but not in the beginning of a smile but full of sureness, full of determination, full of decisiveness. An expression she had never seen on the young witch and it made her resemble her mother even more. "What can I do?" she asked immediately and Poppy could not hide her smile. She had absolutely not doubt that this would work out nicely. And that Tizzy would pull it through. Absolutely none.

"Erm, how should I call you? Madam Pomfrey or..."

She shook her head, surprised at the question. "I demand respect, Tizzy. In my opinion, this has nothing to do with how I'm called."

"Okay," she replied. "Poppy."

"Now then," she said sternly, "we will make an inventory of the potion we need. You take the clipboard and write what I'm about to tell you."

Even before she had finished her sentence, Tizzy had taken it and had jumped up from the chair, eager, it seemed, to help and to learn.

xx

He had gotten ready, had the robes on, the mask in his pocket and the wand at the ready. He almost jogged to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the place where he could apparate. Somehow, Severus was under the delusion, or maybe it was just a kind of escape mechanism, that, the faster he got there, the faster it would be over.

Which of course was absolute rubbish. But honestly, this was the first revel-thing where he had to pretend and he had no idea how to do it. He did not want to hurt any Muggles. He did not want to hurt anyone. He had not fancied that even when he had been a real, non-spy, Death Eater. It was degrading for the Muggles (well, yes, that was the sense behind it, he supposed) and it pulled him a the level of well, a magical thug, actually. And he did not fancy that at all. He had to find a way, some way, to make sure this thing did not spiral out of control. Especially since the old man would not do anything about it.

He had to do something, anything, but he felt utterly alone and utterly clueless when he arrived at the caved in wall of the cemetery and there was Bellatrix Black already waiting with that bloke of hers. Well, waiting was an exaggeration, really. She danced on the spot, hopped from one foot to the other, twirled her hair around her finger, sang, danced around that bloke, occasionally stopped and they kissed fiercely. It was obscene. It was madness and when he arrived almost at the same time with Lucius Malfoy, they did not see them coming at first.

He made a mental note of that. She wasn't as careful just before striking herself – seemed to have caught some form of childish giddiness at the prospect of torturing Muggles and Severus's insides jolted. Seeing this from more or less close-up, it was sickening. The entire thing was sickening, disgusting and nothing he wanted to take part in.

Still, backing out – not an option. He had to do this and had to prove himself. Only this way, those people would accept him. And only this way, he would gather valuable information. Information the old man needed.

'For you, Lily,' he though in his head, a quiet thought, a whispered thought and pulled the mask on his face after bowing his head slightly towards the rest of those that had arrived. He knew all of them. And he had no chance against those – if they wanted to kill Muggles, there was nothing he could do. It was hopeless. Utterly hopeless.

He pushed the piece of him that felt disgust and repulsion far far back. Now, was when it counted. Now, he had to function. Now every bit of feeling was unwanted. A clear head, and a body that did what the mind told it to do. That was what he was reduced to now.

"Now let's go," one of them said and everyone followed him, crazy Bellatrix Black still dancing and bouncing and hopping. It was horrible. It was even more horrible when they came face to face with a group of Muggles – about twenty, maybe twenty-five and what happened then, Severus saw as if it all played on slow-motion, as if it wasn't real.

Bellatrix Black sprung forward, without her mask, without Death Eater robes and it the first Muggle, a young woman, around his age, square in the chest with some kind of fainting hex, not exactly a Stunner, not exactly a Petrificus and suddenly, the muggle woman hung in the air, with her head lolling only inches off the ground. Another followed, and another and Severus, from the corner of his eyes, saw the crazy woman jumping and hopping and bouncing and he could hear her shouting in glee. More followed, and behind him, he could hear the other Death Eaters hissing curses.

He felt quite unable to move but then reminded himself, that he had to function, that he had to appear as if he was enjoying it and slowly, he raised his wand and shot the first spell, a harmless one, a boils-hex, actually, at a middle-aged man and oddly enough, received a slap on the shoulder for it. He only lightly turned his head and saw by the blonde hair peeking out from underneath the hood and the mask, that it could only be Lucius Malfoy.

"Well done for the first," he muttered and Severus was – astonished to hear that. "But now let's get on to something more advanced."

Severus felt himself nod – but the moment he wanted to start hexing, cursing again, there were two people coming towards them through the group of Muggles. Two people with wands in their hands, dressed as Muggles. Had the old man listened to him? He had never seen those wizards, frankly. One of them tall and lean, his hair a sort of blondish-grey, the other smaller, stockier, brown hair, brown eyes. Never in his life had seen them.

They shot stunning curses at them, one of them, the tall blonde one with a strange, non-English accent.

"We have called the Aurors," the shorter, stockier one shouted in between two hexes and it was enough for two of their group, two Death Eaters, to apparate away. Probably weren't as brave as everyone thought. Severus stood stock still. He did not fancy running into Aurors, but he was no coward and he was a spy. He was supposed to be there, on the old man's orders.

And there was suddenly a voice next to him, shrill, crazy Bellatrix Lestrange's voice. "Avada Kedavra," she spoke in a sing-sang and the shorter wizard fell – the Muggles around him, behind him, screaming and there was a red light and hit the taller wizard. Severus did not know what to do – Bellatrix, after the killing curse, had apparated away with her bloke and when he looked around, only Lucius still stood there.

"Let's go, Severus," he said and with a pop, had vanished.

He was alone. Alone in Death Eater robes on a Muggle town square, with a wizard, gone down, hurt, in pain, yes, but not dead, opposite him, surrounded by plenty of screaming Muggles. He made the most unreasonable, stupid decision he could make in that moment. Quite impulsive, quite idiotic, but he rushed towards the writhing wizard on the ground, took his wand away, wand that was pointed at him, and grasped his arm, and in the same moment that he heard apparition noises, from whom, he did not know, he vanished himself, taking the hurt, strange wizard with him.

And yes, when he landed on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he realised that he had just made the gravest mistake of his lifetime – well, after joining the Death Eaters in the first place. He had taken a wizard he did not know, he had never seen, a wizard that was ready to kill him with his own bare hands, with him. To Hogwarts.

He couldn't explain it. Maybe he was growing some form of rescuing-impulse in himself, he did not know. And fortunately, the poor person had passed out, had fallen on the ground where Severus had landed on his knees.

He cursed himself, and nevertheless, pointed his wand at the man (whose wand was safely in his pocket), and levitated him, quickly towards the castle, towards the Infirmary.

Stupid of him. Very, very stupid, he thought all the way. He should have just left. The apparation noises could have been anyone. Aurors, Death Eaters, the Dark Lord himself. And then he would need a good explanation. In any case.

He tried not to think about it too much – tried not to think at all – when he pushed the door to the Infirmary open and the first thing he saw was the face of one Tisiphone Dumbledore, making beds.

"Here. He was hurt," he said, and let the strange wizard fall on a bed. "I don't know what he was hit with," he explained, put the strange wand on the bed next to the man and without letting himself held back, without looking back, he rushed out again, towards the old man.

This was why he had gone in any case. And had buggered it up completely. His first real mission, completely failed.

_**xx**_

_**Thank you! **_

_**Please review!**_


	17. Chapter 17

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

The stone Gargoyle let him in with only a slight, moaning grumble and he rushed up the stairs. He would just say it, then leave again. Couldn't get the sight of those Muggles out of his head and wanted to forget it desperately. Maybe, he would just drink a glass or two of Firewhiskey or Silvergin and go to bed. It would surely help. But first he had to inform the old man what had transpired and that he had blown it. That he had brought a strange man into Hogwarts, even though he was hurt. A strange man naturally brought danger into the castle and he had to admit to this.

Yes, Severus had grown very suspicious. Even more suspicious than he had been at school but he realised that the seed to his suspiciousness had been planted there and then. When he had been chased and bullied by Gryffindors. And now – oh bitter irony – he was completely dependant on another Gryffindor. A Gryffindor that had not helped him during the difficult times he sometimes had as a student. Still, he had no choice, really.

And Lily had been a Gryffindor. Maybe members, or ex-members of that House were his fate.

He shook his head to bring him back to the realities of his life, and pushed the door to the old man's office wide open, after knocking, of course, and after hearing a chipper and cheery 'Come in'. How that man could still sound so happy after risking the life of so many people, Severus did not understand. But maybe, maybe he had done something after all. Maybe those two men, one of them dead, the other in the Hospital Wing, had been sent by him.

Not that he cared very much at that moment. At that moment, he wanted a drink and his bed. He felt as if he had never been anything but tired and needed probably a week in bed. And he had no idea when he could do this. Probably never. Or soon, when the Dark Lord found out that he was the traitor. That would be a long, long sleep. Maybe, that wouldn't even be so bad. To sleep until all eternity. Never to wake up again.

First things, however, first.

For a moment only, he met the old man's eyes and without waiting for him to say something, he began. In a cold voice, devoid of all emotion.

"There is an injured person in the Infirmary who was fighting against us. I cannot say which side he is on. None of the Death Eaters were wounded and there were Aurors arriving when I left."

The old man looked at him with a puzzled expression but Severus shook his head – just a bit, more like a twitch and ran from the office. He knew it was wrong to just leave. He knew he should have stayed and listened to what the old man had to say but he couldn't. He just couldn't. He felt tired and worn out and did not want explanations and excuses and didn't want to hear that it was all necessary.

He would find out, sooner rather than later, what he had done wrong exactly. Did not need to hear it now.

Now, he only needed to sleep. No explanations, no excuses, just simple, simple sleep.

xx

It was an odd feeling, really. There was an injured, wounded person in front of her and she felt utterly calm. Poppy gave her instructions and she gave the woman what she needed, bandages, potions, everything. Tizzy knew that she had made the right decision. The poor man needed help and she did everything she could to lent it. Without freaking out, without fainting, even though the blood sluggishly oozing from the wound on his forehead was disgusting. It looked like – nothing she had ever seen before. It really wasn't that nice but she understood in that moment, that she did not have to like the look of the bleeding wound. In fact, maybe as long as she could stand it but disliked the look, it would even help her. She was, after all, supposed to heal the person. And that meant stopping the wound from bleeding. And stopping the wound to look disgusting.

"Tizzy, do hold him down, please. I don't know how he will react to that spell and how much he's out of it," Poppy told her and she merely nodded and put both her hands on the man's shoulders. He was about fifty, maybe fifty five, she thought as she managed to look into his face for the first time without paying attention to the wound.

"Like this?"

The mediwitch shook her head. "The hands are alright but since I'm about to close the wound on his head, maybe you should put your head back a little. If you don't want me to stitch your head together."

Tizzy only nodded, and wasn't sure whether Poppy had joked or not. But it didn't matter. She pushed her body back a little, her eyes still on the nose of the man, but farther away. He still looked about fifty. Greyish-blonde hair, a little stubble on his face, the same colour. A long nose but not abnormally long, thin lips, not a healthy colour. He was tall though, and thin.

And suddenly, she felt a twitching and his shoulders lifted from the bed he was lying on. She pressed down hard and put all her weight into holding him down and earned a quick glance and a nod from Poppy.

"Good," the mediwitch said after a moment. "You can let go again. Then I need you to get me the Reviving Potion. It's on the in the cabinet, the third shelf from the top, in the middle of the shelf."

Tizzy let go and rushed to the cabinet, opened it and because Poppy kept everything so sorted, she found it almost immediately – but missed someone coming in. She only noticed her uncle standing by the bed when she returned, had not heard him at all. It was odd, since her hearing was usually quite excellent. She frowned.

"Hi Alb," she said, trying to sound friendly.

"Tisiphone? What are you doing here?" he asked and was apparently puzzled.

Oh, yes. Right. She had not yet told anyone of her decision. Except Eileen. Well, not even her. She had just mentioned that this might be a way of helping. And had then made the decision during the night. She had not quite told Mum because Mum hated the Infirmary. And she would probably be some kind of miffed if not only one of her best friends but also her daughter was a healer. Oh well, she had planned to tell them that evening but then that man had come in and she had to help Poppy, naturally.

"She is helping me," Poppy said sharply.

She nodded quickly. "Yes, I was helping Poppy."

"And now Tizzy was about to look after the person that again just stormed out of here," she said.

"I was? Oh, yes, I was. Sorry. I'll see you later, Poppy, Alb," she said quickly, understanding that in this instance, she wasn't truly wanted. Even though she was more than curious, she understood about looking after Severus. That man took absolutely no care of himself. And she wasn't sure what he was doing at the moment. For all she knew, he might be drinking himself into a stupor at the moment. Or anything, really.

She dashed from the Infirmary and down the stairs, ran through the dungeons corridors. Fully expecting, in a way, to have to knock for a long time – but not to find the door to his rooms, she had not expected that. The portrait of the grumpy man was gone, the other portraits seemed jumbled around and there was no door. No door at all.

She looked around. There was nobody. Nothing. No ghost, no portrait that seemed to be awake, nothing. And she was so certain there should be a door somewhere. She knew the castle, even the dungeons. She knew it. She knew where doors were supposed to be – but even as she ran her hands along the wall where she suspected the door to be, she only felt cold stone – not wood. Nothing.

Tizzy was not someone who gave up easily – but she had no idea how to find him – he clearly did not want to be found. But maybe, maybe she could have an house elf looking after him. And if he was hurt, she would find a way to break in. She just knew no other way.

"Floppy," she called softly and a moment later, the house elf appeared. She smiled. He would have access. And if Severus needed help, Floppy would find a way.

xx

"Albus," Poppy greeted coldly. That man always popped up like an house elf when it smelled dirty dishes. And Poppy was strictly against questioning hurt people – but maybe this was an exception. They didn't know who it was lying there and what he had been up to. So maybe it had to be. No need to be infiltrated by some dubious person.

And yes, she noticed when Albus put on his Legilimency face. His eyes twinkled in a special way and his mouth was smiling a little. It was the face, outwardly, of a dotty old man. But she had worked long enough with him to know it. And to know that now was the time to Occlude a little. Just enough not to fall prey to some _accident_.

"Will he wake up soon?"

Poppy rolled her eyes. The man's eyelids were already fluttering. It made no sense in answering. Before she would have finished answering him, the man would be up. And a moment later, the man's eyes were open and he was grasping wildly for his wand.

"You are safe," Albus said. "But please remain calm."

"Safe. Vat? Vere am I?" the man asked, a slight Nothern European, maybe Swedish or Danish or Norwegian accent.

"You are at Hogwarts," Poppy would not be pushed aside by the Headmaster.

"Hogvarts?" he asked, sitting up and she could see from the corner of her eyes that Albus was filing through the poor, defenceless man's brain.

"Who are you?" Albus asked, still looking at the man.

"Lasse Hallstrøm," he said steadily. Certainly one of those countries. Swedish, she suspected. With that name.

"And can you tell me what happened just before you came here?"

"Who arr yu?" the man asked, pushing himself up to sit straighter.

"I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and this is the resident mediwitch, Madam Poppy Pomfrey." He said quickly, obviously happy with what he had found in the mind of the man. She could see it in his face.

"Do you hurt anywhere?" she asked instead of letting the Headmaster interrogate him immediately.

He shook his head. "I am fine."

"Good. We had to do a little something since you seemed to have been hit with a curse and fell hard on the ground."

"How did I come here?" he asked, the voice guttural, low, throaty, accenty.

"Someone brought you in. But what happened?" the Headmaster asked.

"Vere is Hieronymus Cemp?"

"Who?" Poppy asked.

"My ffriend. Hieronymus Cemp. He...," he stopped and paled. Poppy was by his side immediately. "He vas killed." he answered himself. "Explained about Deas Eaters. Zose vere Deas Eaters, veren't zey?"

"Hieronymus Cemp was your friend?" Albus asked suddenly. "And he was killed?"

The tall man nodded slowly. "Ve vent to ze festival. Hieronymus said Britain waz not safe but said zat his village vas only little and zat nobody know he vas a trollkarl, vizard, I mean. He haz just moved zere and I came to vizit. Ve vanted to spent a nice evening togezer but zen zere vere zose people and ve had to do somezing."

Albus nodded slowly and looked at Poppy before he looked back at Lasse Hallstrøm. "Hieronymus Cemp was someone who rather leaned towards our side and went into hiding," he explained softly.

"Yes. I vork for ze Swedish vizard police and ve haff been careful after Grindelvald and Beck but now, it is quiet in our country."

"And you called the Aurors?" Dumbledore asked.

"Hieronymus haz a telephone and he contacted someone he knows in ze vizarding police here."

It seemed to be enough for the Headmaster. His face was set into a different, very different mask. One she could not really explain. His eyes had stopped twinkling but his mouth was still smiling. And his hands were in front of him, not by his side, just clasped over his front. Not like you would see him every day. And he almost seemed – relaxed.

"I think he needs some more sleep," Poppy said to him and surprisingly, he nodded immediately.

"Mister Hallstrøm, I would very much like to talk to you again and of course you're welcome to stay here," the old man said and the other man nodded.

"Zank you."

Poppy arched her brows towards the Headmaster and without another word, he disappeared. Odd. Truly odd. But she had a patient that she had to focus on and that man truly did look tired. She merely smiled.

"Potion to sleep better?" she asked gently and the poor man only nodded.

xx

The house elf bowed deeply and she tapped her foot impatiently on the ground. "And?"

"Master Snape is fine, Miss Tisiphone. Sleeping deeply. And Mistress Minerva says you have to come home because she doesn't know where you are."

Tizzy chuckled and nodded. "Thanks so much, Floppy."

It was good news. He was sleeping deeply and she didn't have to look for the hidden door that night. It would do in the morning.

_**xx**_

_**Thank you and please review!**_

_**I'm not sure how well I got the accent, I used Garbo as a reference. **_


	18. Chapter 18

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

Albus knew Hieronymous Cemp more or less well. Well, had known, to be precise. But they had lost touch a few years back. Truth be told, Albus had never been truly comfortable around him. Not because Hieronymous had been a shady character – no, he was a good bloke, thoroughly Light in his thinking – but because Hieronymous Cemp had sported a crush on Albus for a while. And Albus was someone, truly someone, whose heart had been shattered a long time ago. He was not willing – and probably not able – to give one man the love he could give the entire Wizarding World. It was a choice he had made, for the world he lived in, and against his own, private happiness.

And he had not honestly thought about his own love life for at least two decades. It was just something he did not do. But he was happy, he had a family, he had a brother whom he more or less loved, he had a sister-in-law he adored and a niece he could be a good uncle for. He had his school, he had the Wizengamot, he had a lot of things.

No time for a relationship, and no need for another heartbreak.

The love he was spreading and giving to the school and Wizardkind was enough and too impersonal to really hurt.

Albus Dumbledore sat pensively at his desk, thinking about the Swedish Auror down in the Infirmary and that the Scandinavian countries had had their share of Dark Wizards as well. Grindelwald had not operated that badly up there, but they had battled their very own Voldemort (though slightly less insane) a few years back – Bosse Beck. It would be a wise move, probably, to talk to this Lasse Hallstrøm again. If he had fought Beck, he would have experience. Experience that would only benefit them against Tom Riddle.

He sat back in his chair, popped a Sherbet Lemon into his mouth and folded his hands over his belly. With a Swedish ace up their sleeve – the chances had just increased exponentially.

xx

She waved and rushed to the woman's side, sitting in the Great Hall, her Mother limping after her.

"Hello," Tizzy said cheerfully to Miss Prince.

"Prince," her Mother said a moment later, taking a seat with a sigh.

"McGonagall," Eileen Prince replied, one eyebrow arched in a way that Tizzy desperately wanted to learn how to do.

"Have you seen Severus yet?"

"No," she said and took a sip of her tea. "I hear he rescued you," she added, turning to Mum.

"He did," her Mother replied, "You can be proud of that boy. Apart from his manners."

Miss Prince nodded once, and kept her eyes pretty much on the table in front of her and on her cup of tea. It was as if, Tizzy felt, she contemplated saying something and not quite daring to. Or maybe daring to but not quite knowing how to phrase it. It seemed odd. More than once she opened her mouth to say something,m then closed it with almost a snap again. Truly odd.

Tizzy frowned a little, then decided that she would just have to talk. "I went to look for him last night after he brought that person in but I think he disillusioned his door."

"He what?" both women said at the same time and it made Tizzy grin. There she sat, squashed between her Mother and Severus's Mother and both had yelled the same thing in her ear.

"Who did he bring in?"

"What happened to him?"

Tizzy shrugged. "I don't know. I was with Poppy in the Infirma...erm, yes. Er, speaking of which," she bit her tongue. Last night had been a bit, well, she had not been able to tell her parents that she had taken to working with Poppy Pomfrey – or that she wanted to be a Healer. The timing had not been right with Dad reading that ridiculous book with the ridiculous woman in the arms of this ridiculous man on the cover and Mum had sort of limped around the room, obviously in pain but not admitting to it, and groaning over a book and a roll of parchment – probably doing syllabi again. Or already designing tests for her poor students. It wouldn't have been right to just stand there and say, 'hey, you know what, I'll be a Healer'. Wouldn't have been...right. She had no idea why. But Dad and Mum together could be quite intimidating. Maybe it was the better way to speak to Mum first, here, and let her tell Dad. Or probably the other way around. But with Eileen Prince there – well, Mother could not, would not, get that mad. Not mad for becoming a Healer – mad for not telling her beforehand, mad for not discussing it with them beforehand. Yes, her parents were those kind of people and this had been a quick decision. Well thought out, yes, but quick. And she hated those discussions that lasted three and a half days and that made absolutely no progress. And those were her parents speciality once it came to her. And anything they considered life-altering. Longest discussion had been over a couch. Two weeks that had lasted – about a couch. In the end, they had decided to just redo the old one.

"Tisiphone," her Mother said sharply and made her head snap back in her direction. Tizzy smiled gently.

"Erm, yeah. I...figured out what I want to do with my life," she began hesitantly. "Er, I ask...

"What is it this time?" Mother interrupted snidely.

"Let the poor girl speak, McGonagall," Eileen snapped back.

"That is none of your business, Prince."

"She obviously wants to tell you something important and you interrupt her."

"Do you know how often she made a decision concerning her life? I heard the I-figured-out-what-I-want-to-do-with-my-life-speech once every month. You can't judge this."

"But you don't even let her speak. How do you know what she wants to say?"

"Because she is my daughter and I know her. She's been trying to find a thing to do ever since she was in her Third Year."

Tizzy leaned back. She had been getting on their nerves from time to time with her ideas and maybe dragon dealer had not been a good idea when selling and purchasing dragons was forbidden in the UK. She had quite liked the Ballerina-idea. But that was before she figured out that she had the grace of a crup when she dance. Opera singer had been a good idea too. Until Dad had told her to stop squeaking. But she had been young then. The jobs she had come up in the last few months had been rather reasonable. But yes, every week another one. Not very consistent of her.

The two women still fought. She had not known that Severus's Mum and hers had some kind of history – but it was obvious they had. She would ask either one of them (and probably not get any information) or Dad. Dad would know. Dad knew everything about Mum.

But it was late and she had told Poppy she would be in the Infirmary at eight – and she certainly did not want to be late on her first full day as a Healer's apprentice.

She bit her lip, then got up. This startled the two older women from their fighting and Tizzy held her head high and said, loud and clear. "I started an apprenticeship with Poppy Pomfrey." And after that declaration, she simply walked away – not looking back and ignoring Mum's stunned silence and the noise Eileen Prince made when she leaned back in her chair.

No, Tisiphone Dumbledore merely walked out of the Great Hall where they had gone for breakfast and over the corridor to the Hospital Wing. She had wanted to check on Severus beforehand but Floppy had – without her asking for it, which was odd – popped in her room when she had gotten dressed and had told her that Master Severus Snape Sir was still sleeping deeply.

She would simply ask Poppy permission to go look after him after reporting for duty and seeing if the strange man, whose name she still did not know, was alright and how that wound on his head had healed. The spell Poppy had used to stitch it together had been very impressive and truth be told, Tizzy could not wait to try it.

"Morning," she said happily, contentedly to her new mentor and beamed.

"Good morning, Tizzy," she replied and smiled. "I see you returned."

Tizzy rolled her eyes. "And why does everyone think I wouldn't? Or that I would change my mind again. I won't. I...it's so typical. Just because I didn't know from age 5 that I wanted to be this or that doesn't mean that I can't stick to one thing. Honestly, I..."

"I was only teasing, dear," Poppy chuckled and wrapped her arms around her in a half hug.

"Hmph," Tizzy muttered, then turned to the mediwitch, "I wanted to check on Severus last night but he disillusioned his door."

Poppy's eyes narrowed. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I sent Floppy in to see if he was alright, Poppy," she replied slightly puzzled by the harsh tones of the other woman. "And Floppy said he was sleeping. I figured that..."

Poppy smiled and pulled her in a full hug. "You will be a good mediwitch."

"I'm confused," Tizzy muttered and earned a chuckle.

"No need. If you sent an house elf in, you just did the right thing."

"Okay," Tizzy shrugged.

xx

He slowly stretched his legs, then his arms. He could move all his limbs – and his head. He didn't even hurt that much. And as memory came rushing by, he realised that he had not been under any form of spell the night before, that he had not been cursed, that he had not been beaten. He should be fine, really. And he was. He felt almost fine. And rested.

For the first time in weeks, he really felt rested. Rolling over, he saw the reason why. It was after 1. 1 pm. Not 1 am. 1 pm. He had slept for 16 hours straight.

He rolled back on his back, put his hands behind his head and breathed deeply. For the first time in over a year, he felt somewhat safe. The door was disillusioned and charmed to feel like the rest of the walls in Hogwarts. He had jumbled the portraits – despite their protests – around and when the Bloody Baron had seen him do it, the ghost had merely chuckled and had floated away.

Nobody could get to him, not Tisiphone Dumbledore, not her Mother, not his Mother, not the old man. It was a nice feeling to know that it was one pm, that he slept decently, that his Dark Mark never burned that early in the day, that the old man had promised him to keep Lily safe, that he did not feel any pain and that this magnificent potion called Dreamless Sleep had kept all his nightmares away. He felt very well rested – if slightly hungry.

Oh well, it was either an house elf – or leaving his bed and his rooms. Even though, he would have to find, or create, some secret passageway for himself. Maybe to this laboratory that the old man had said he could use and that by now was used to brew some lovely Veritaserum. Another four hours and it would be ready to use. And how knew – when he wasn't called tonight, maybe it was time for some idle chit-chat with dear Mother.

Now that he could see clear, his anger at his Mother rose. The woman had the audacity to show up there, unannounced just when he was switching sides, just when he was saving lives. The Veritaserum, as much as he wanted to know the truth, could also be used as a way of getting back to his Mother. Getting back at her for all the times that she had not shown the slightest interest in her only son, the times she had not stopped his Father. The times when there had not been a decent (or any) meal on the table.

And if his way of getting back at her was humiliation – he did not care in this moment that he could see clearly, think clearly.

He jumped about a foot from the mattress when suddenly a minute house elf, smaller than the average elf, and with a broader grin than the usual house elf, popped up – right in front of his bed. He wore a clean white tea towel with the Hogwarts crest on his chest.

"Good morning Master Severus Snape Sir," the elf squeaked. "I were told to gives you lunch."

"Who told you?" Severus asked, pulling up the covers right to his nose.

"Miss Tisiphone Dumbledore Miss, Sir," he replied and made a tiny bow with his tiny head and clapping his tiny hands together – and almost excited about it – a tray appeared, basically nailing him to the bed and on that tray was a massive fried breakfast – eggs, bacon, beans, toast, sausages.

"Tisiphone Dumbledore?" he asked, trying to understand. Why would she do that? Tisiphone? Why?

"Yes Master Severus Snape Sir," the elf nodded. "Say you needs to eat it all and stop hiding your door."

"What?" he asked, gobsmacked. What a surreal scene. He was sitting half-naked in bed, with a tray full of breakfast keeping him there, and a minute house elf and stood there, explaining that Tisiphone Dumbledore wanted him to eat everything and to make his door unhidden. What did that silly girl think she was doing?

He didn't need a Mother – much less two.

Oh but the breakfast smelled heavenly and he felt how hungry he really was now. He would eat and then do the rest of the things he wanted to do that day. Though whether to talk, much less thanks, Tisiphone Dumbledore, he wasn't sure now. He would have to see. It was, after all, his choice if he hid his door.

xx

Both women glared at one another. Eileen had noticed that Tizzy had left but there were unsolved issues, it seemed, between her and Minerva McGonagall. Oh, she knew that woman alright. Had been Head Girl during Eileen's first and second year. Oh but that woman had already hated Slytherins back then. And had taken a lot of points off her. Just because she liked sitting in the corridors. What was wrong with it anyway (well – before curfew anyway).

And Albus Dumbledore – her old Transfiguration Teacher – preferring his Gryffindors too - as well as her had not done anything – anything – to stop those damn little Gryffindors from taunting her Severus. And if she had known – oh well – Minerva McGonagall wasn't to know that she felt bad herself. That didn't matter at the moment.

"You couldn't have done anything, could you? They were your little Cubs and you just let them be," she spat.

"A mother should protect her child," McGonagall spat back.

"I was not here to protect him."

"Even if you had been, you wouldn't have!"

"I would have. Do you think I would have let my boy be almost eaten like by a Werewolf?"

McGonagall paled only slightly. "How do you know that?"

Eileen shrugged "I have ways of knowing things, McGonagall. And I know that you did not care one whit about him or any other Slytherin that ever crossed your path."

"That is not true," McGonagall snapped. "I did and I still do. They received detention."

"Detention, detention. Did they learn anything from it? Obviously not," Eileen spat. "I'm sure you took a few points as well from your Gryffindors, didn't you? How many, two each?"

"You did not care about him, Prince. He would have never been in this situation if you had..."

"Do not finish that sentence. Just because you think you raised a little princess. Just because you were able to sent her to a posh finishing school," Eileen argued, "We weren't all born with a golden spoon up our arse."

"That has nothing to do with loving your child," McGonagall shouted.

"I love my son!" Eileen spat and stood up rapidly. "You cannot judge that."

She rushed from the Great Hall and down the stairs. Could not understand that woman. Sitting in the glasshouse and throwing stone after stone herself. She was down in the dungeons in record time and unlocked her door, sat on her bed and put her face in her hands.

In moments like this, Eileen Prince wished she could actually have a good cry.

xx

Tizzy had been sent from the Infirmary again – just because Alb wanted to talk to that Lasse Hallstrøm person again. Strange Swede. Honestly. Didn't say much, didn't blink much. And if Alb felt he had to interrogate him again, oh well. It was not what she wanted to do. She had Poppy and further sorted out some potions.

And that was the one advantage of being sent away. Because she had been sent away with a list of potions that Poppy did not really want or could brew herself. And this gave her an honest excuse to see Severus. Floppy had reported that he had eaten everything and that made her somewhat happy.

Maybe relaxed, sated Severus was simpler to talk to. She almost skipped down to the dungeons, the list – her excuse – safely in her pocket.

The door to his quarters was there again – but nobody answered, when she knocked. Well, it was the middle of the day, she thought, and skidded down the hall to his lab. If he wasn't there, well Floppy had sort of taken a liking to him so she would send the house elf to look for him.

And it was a good sign that the door to his lab was there as well and she knocked, putting a smile on her face.

"Who is it?" she heard from inside and oh, he didn't really sound that grumpy any more.

"Tizzy. Poppy Pomfrey sent me here to ask you something," she answered honestly and the door was opened a little bit and he peeked out at her.

"What?" he snapped.

"Are you always this grumpy?" she asked and with strength he had probably not expected she had in her elbows, she pushed past him, inside the lab, pulling the list from her pocket.

But then – then – her eyes fell on a cauldron and she gasped. This was – no, it couldn't be. Ignoring him wanting to throw her out again, and even close to pulling her by the arms, she wound away and rushed to the cauldron, looking inside. It was.

"Severus," she whispered, "what are you making Veritaserum for?"

_**xx**_

_**Thank you for reading and don't forget to review!**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

If in doubt – lie. It was the first rule he had ever learned in his life. The second rule he had learned, painfully, only moments later in his childhood had been not quite so simple. If in doubt – lie – but make the lie convincing and make sure that nobody finds out it's a lie. And those two rules had been essential in living in that shithole that was Spinner's End.

'What have you done now?' – 'Nothing. I was only reading.'

Not that it greatly mattered to Tobias Snape what lie he told or whether he said the truth. But it would have probably made it worse if he answered 'I was practising spells from Mother's books and the wand she thinks she has hidden behind her wedding dress and that you don't know about.'

Lying worked. And since his life only consisted of lying these days, it would work with her as well. Though he only had to twist the truth a bit, or if he was right, and she was the way he thought she was, he would not have to say anything at all. Let her do the talking.

"Severus, this is Veritaserum," she exclaimed and looked at him in an astonished way, "this is illegal to brew. And it takes a month to brew. You haven't been here a month. How can you do this?"

The simply truth of the matter was, well, he had had the base ready. And a base he himself had modified from the books. Took less than a month to brew now. Technically, it only took three days, even with the base. But better not tell anyone. Never knew when that would come in handy. 'Sorry, I'll make it for you, [insert the appropriate title for one of them – My Lord or Headmaster] but it takes a month to brew.' Might come in handy.

The lie wasn't really a lie. He met her gaze, and – shrugged.

"Severus!" she cried. "What are you doing this for? It's a horrible potion."

Well, yes. For those who had to drink it. Or were made to drink it. Not for those who gave it to someone else. And he was the lucky person who would be able to distribute it. Colourless, no flavour at all. And within seconds, everyone who had taken it would spill all their secrets. It wasn't a horrible potion. It was a wonderful potion.

But once more, he opted for silence – it had never worked with his father, but would with her – and only looked into her eyes, for security reasons applying what he had learned about Occlumency. And that was a lot. Even if she had mastered the art of Legilimency, which he doubted, she could never get through the solid walls surrounding his thoughts. And learning to think behind those walls instead of merely drawing a blank, this was marvellous. Wonderful.

"Are you making this for...," she gasped, drawing her own conclusions, obviously. He had not have to lie – she was smart enough to figure out that he might be brewing this for the Dark Lord. Not that he was. But he might have been.

"Or my uncle? Does he need it? Severus, answer me," she cried and he almost, almost, smiled. She looked very much like Professor McGonagall did when she was working herself up and getting angry. Stern lines around her mouth as well, eyebrows drawn together. Eyes sparkling.

She had pretty eyes, to be honest. Not that he himself had an eye for that kind of thing but as eyes went, hers were nice. Bright blue. Not the colour he preferred usually, and unbidden, the image of Lily's green eyes popped into his head. Green was more beautiful than blue.

"For Merlin's sake, Severus," she suddenly stood in front of him, her little hands pressed against his chest and her smell waving over into his nose. He was someone whose passion was potions. He understood smells and had a good nose (and yes, he had always kept this ability a secret. He could almost hear the puns made though) and even underlying scents could be distinguished easily. Hers was simple. Pineapple. Mango. Coconut. Exotic. Coming from her hair, the gentle, long waves releasing another wave of the scent every time she moved even minutely. And she moved anything but minutely as he still remained silent.

No, she pounded her fists onto his chest and glared and her lips were redder than before, pressing them together was probably the cause, or her yelling, he wasn't sure.

"Are you brewing it for you-know-who?" she asked, and stopped her pounding for a moment.

And this was the moment for the very convincing lie. Without actually having to say a single word. A lie everyone would believe, even the old man.

He nodded. Merely nodded. Just moving his chin up and down. Once. No big thing.

But for her, it meant probably everything. Her hands softened on his chest (he did not truly like them there. Had she never heard of personal space?), flattened, the palms pressed against it. Gentle, really.

He did not like being touched, and least of all detested being touched gently. Not that it happened often. But hence the not flinching away when she had hammered against his chest with her fists, but stepping back when her hands became soft and small and feminine. But she was worse than a leech, really, and followed him, stepped almost in sync with him as if she had expected him to retreat and her face – he was still looking at her face – softened, not smiling, not scowling. It was a look that he could not place, though her next words, softly spoken, whispered intently but kind and gentle, made it clear what she felt. And that made him wonder.

"I worry so about you, Severus. I am scared for you."

xx

The man had been allowed to sit up, yes, but Poppy was not willing to let him leave the Infirmary – or the bed, really – yet. His injuries had been severe and if, by all she gathered, he had not only been hurt outwardly but also suffered from the loss of maybe partner, or boyfriend or whatever they called each other, since it was no secret in the Wizarding World that Hieronymous Cemp liked to fish on the male side of the river. Albus had told her more than once and she had heard from about every other gay wizard she had ever met as well.

And with his always outrageously purple robes and heeled shoes, he could be distinguished anywhere (except, of course, Albus was at the same place).

Lasse Hallstrøm did not, however, strike her as the typical gay wizard. He was rather level-headed, rational, patient, when she checked him over or healed something or gave him a potion. He stayed in bed as long as she wanted him to stay and was generally just a good patient.

She didn't come across them a lot. Most of the children who came in were in pain and anxious or embarrassed – depending on what had happened. And the adults, the majority of people she had to fix these days were impatient and grumbling once they had an analgesic potion. He was the opposite and had even invited her to eat with him.

He was nice. Truly nice. Even if she suspected that there was a stony, hard, tough interior inside. If he had fought against the latest Scandinavian Dark Lord Bosse Beck, he had to be tough. That wizard had had gotten as close as their own dark wizard terrorising the country at the moment, as anyone could. Had made his way up to the top of the Swedish Ministry and had put Norway, Finland and half of Denmark under his rule as well. People had vanished, children had been put under the care of his followers to be brainwashed. Nobody was sure what he had really wanted to achieve – at least probably nobody not in Scandinavia but it had been about the superiority of one part of Wzardkind over another (not necessarily had he been about blood-status, rather about power and religious belief and, oddly enough, sexual orientation. No, it did not make a lot of sense).

So Albus had left, and she had heard most of what they had been talking about. About his Auror-work in Sweden, what he had worked there, that he was strictly on the side of the 'good' after Beck had had his mother killed (for reasons he had not disclosed to Albus) and even before that. He was just someone that took his duty as an Auror seriously and as such, he explained, it was his task to catch criminals – and Beck was a criminal in his opinion.

They had succeeded and he had been there with his squad. Beck had been killed. He didn't say more. And Albus had not asked more – except for him to stay after his recovery and to let him ask him for advice. She had never seen Albus this solemn and serious. Not usually for such a long time. He usually tried to cheer people up and smiled and played dotty old man. Not with this one and that alone was enough for Poppy to make her suspicious.

She would keep her eyes on both of them. Wasn't sure whether it would be smart of her to encourage something started between the two of them – and she wasn't sure whether Albus was interested in any kind of relationship. Since she had known him – and that had been a long time – he never had a partner, not male, not female.

"Arr you alright?" she heard Lasse Hallstrøm shuffling from his bed towards where she was bustling, waiting for Tizzy to come back. But the girl was probably bugging Severus about the potions and making him brew them. If someone could do it, it was Tizzy. The girl was clearly interested in Severus and given time, Severus would be smart enough that he could not find a better girl for himself. But she would certainly keep her fingers away from this. Would not meddle, would only observe.

It was what she did best after all.

"Madam Pomfrey?" he asked again, standing there, in a hospital gown.

"Sorry, yes, I am alright. But you should get back to bed," she said gently, surprised that he had caught on on her pensiveness. People always just assumed that she was merely busy when she bustled in her storage cupboards and sorted one thing or another. Mostly, all in her storage was immaculately sorted – but sometimes, she just needed to think. And that was the best way to do it.

"You seem sad," he said in that accent of his and it put a smile on her face. She shook her head and grasping his elbow, she directed him back to his bed and helped him sit down.

"I am not sad, Mister Hallstrøm," she said with conviction but the man only eyed her curiously.

"I don't believe you," he said a nice tilt in his voice. "I zink you arr sad. And vork too much. You haff not spent von minute avay from here. Haff you no husband?"

She frowned. Another observer. She was the observer, not the observed. He smiled and that sort of undid her. It was the strain of the last few weeks, months really and this man, this stranger, really, who had spent not even an entire day in her presence and who saw through her.

She didn't like it at all though. She was there for her patients. Not the other way round. She was there for them. They were not supposed to see that she had a cot in her office and slept there. They were not supposed to see that she only barely went to her official rooms. The Infirmary was her life.

"I have no husband," she said in a choked voice and the kind stranger bent forwards and pulled her to him, made her sit on the bed next to him. She didn't know him at all and she had always considered Scandinavians to be rather cool – and especially him. Mean, tough Swedish Auror. And that mean, tough, Swedish Auror put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her to him. She didn't know why, she didn't know what he had in himself that he could, but he did, and hugged her with one arm.

"It must be hart for yu to take care of evveryvon here ant only ze girl for help," he said gently.

Poppy bit her lip, tried to swallow the lump in her throat – down to where all the other lumps were and shrugged. Shrugged before she came to her senses. People expected her to work and to fix them. Showing a weakness in front of a stranger was not alright.

She got up quickly, the lump far down in her stomach by now, falling heavily as a stone, and hardened her features. "You lie down again and I will bring you a potion for the pain and sleep."

She ignored that he looked at her puzzled and went bustling.

xx

She couldn't help touching him. His chest, in that crisp white shirt looked just inviting and honestly, she was worried about him, she didn't want him to bring Veritaserum to that mad man. The things he-who-must-not-be-named could do with it – unimaginable. No, she didn't want to think about it. She wanted to hide him somewhere until that man was defeated but she knew that with a spy it was probably simpler but she realised that all people close to her heart were directly involved – except probably Miss Prince – she wasn't sure about her.

And he had only moved back ever so slightly when she had stopped hitting him and touched him gently. She couldn't let go of him. She wanted to touch him.

Even though – Veritaserum. She gasped.

"What if he gives it to you?" she asked suddenly, blinking, ignoring that he had not reacted to her confession that she worried about him, that she was scared for him. If he was given Veritaserum – all would be revealed. He-who-must-not-be-named would know that he was a spy. He would be killed instantly. Or tortured and killed slowly. "Severus," she whispered and she knew it came out more as a whiny plead than anything else. She felt tears pooling in her eyes and did her best to fight them back.

Again, he remained silent. Just said nothing. He knew exactly what was going to happen.

"You must not give it to him, Severus," she continued pleading her hands wandering up his chest, to his neck, holding the sides of it. It was surprisingly soft skin there and she found herself stroking his skin with her thumbs. "Please. This will only mean death for you."

He only stared in her eyes and she could read nothing in them. Absolutely nothing but what she thought was resignation to the fact that he was walking to his death. She couldn't let this happen. If she could only find a way.

"Substitute it," she suggested. "Offer to test it on yourself and pretend you're saying the truth, but not this. Severus, this will be death for you. I don't want to lose you."

He remained silent still. "Say something!" she cried and hated that she sounded so hysterical.

"I will not die," he merely said then, softly, gently, and never took his eyes off hers. She knew she was being absolutely stupid. And mad, but he could be walking to his death the next time he was called to he-who-must-not-be-named's side. Especially delivering that particular potion.

Tisiphone shook her head slightly, her thumbs still stroking the sides of his neck, and he had not flinched, had not pulled away once. She had to do this – as impulsive as it was, as stupid as it was. But she would probably never, otherwise, get the chance.

She stood on her tiptoes and let her fingers wander to the back of his neck and he was still staring in her eyes, not saying anything, not protesting and she pulled him closer. Just a little. Just pulled him so much closer that she could reach his lips with her own. She let hers brush over his, just quickly, and when he didn't pull away, didn't flinch, just stood motionlessly, she kissed his lower lip gently, then his upper lip. He didn't react at all but that was okay. She just had to do this.

Kissed him briefly again, looked at him, let her tongue dart out and licked her lips, just to get a taste of him, really and blushed.

"Don't die," she whispered before she gathered up her skirt and robes slightly and Poppy's list forgotten in her pocket, ran from his lab.

xx

He was – what was the expression? – dazed. He slowly touched his lips with his fingertips. Had that girl just kissed him? Had she assumed that he was in grave danger from the Veritaserum and had she, because of that, kissed him? Maybe some potion-fumes had befuddled his brain.

Why should she? Why should she stand there with her hands on his neck forever, in a death-grip that he was afraid to wriggle out of because she could have just as easily strangled him with that grip if he moved to quickly. And then there was something else. Something entirely foreign about the way she had touched him. She had not been appalled by him. And she had just done it, without hesitating. And this gentle touching, well, no, he still disliked being touched, although – no. He disliked being touched. He disliked being kissed (well, not if Lily was the one to) but this had – no.

He had to admit though, that it was the first time in his life that a woman had kissed him like this. It wasn't really a kiss he had ever expected to get. Well, he could live without it, of course, and without the experience, but it was curious to feel. Odd, really. And he could not wrap his mind around it.

It confused him. She had not drawn away. She had touched him. Of her own, free will. Curious, strange, weird.

But he disliked confusion. He needed his head soon. Had sent a note to his _darling_ Mother and all he had to do now was to put the Veritaserum in a vial and slip a bit of that in her tea. Would be no problem since he would make the tea himself.

And by that, by keeping busy and focusing on the task at hand, he could forget the tingling feeling on his lips. And the bitter-sweet taste on them. His lips almost tasted as if he had eaten dark chocolate. Only, he hadn't. She must have – and – not thinking about it now.

He had more important things to think about that what Tizzy Dumbledore had eaten.

xx

She read the note over and over again. _Please meet me in my rooms at half past seven sharp. We have to talk. _

Nothing more, nothing less but she knew the spidery scrawl of her son anywhere. She had read it the entire afternoon. Over and over and over again. He wanted to talk and that made her forget the entire fight with McGonagall. Her son wanted to talk to her – no, he knew that they had to talk. And they had to.

It didn't stop her from thinking about what to tell him, how to tell him and it certainly didn't stop her from being nervous and fidgety. Even when she made her way down the corridor to his rooms, she couldn't stop her hands from shaking and wringing together and her knock sounded tentative, shy even.

But it was opened immediately and her son stood there, tall, imposing even. "Come in," he only said and ushered her in. It was her son – and she was nervous. Weird, that.

He pointed at a chair and she sat down, relieved, when he pushed a cup of tea in her hands only a moment later. It would soothe her nerves, it would help her say things, it would give her something to hold on to and she took a sip, then another. Didn't know her son made such good tea.

"It's really good," she said, taking another sip. "Didn't know you could make such good tea," she added – and somehow, she hadn't really meant to say it.

"Well, Mother," Severus said and there was a glint in her eyes. "Let's talk."

_**xx**_

_**Thank you for reading and don't forget to review!**_


	20. Chapter 20

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**Thanks to Alabaster Princess for her help and for being just herself! **_

_**xx**_

He hid his sneer admirably. Half a cup of the laced tea and she was singing like a little bird. Even blurting things without him asking her something. Why else should she compliment him on the tea that he had not made at all, but had the house elves bring up? It didn't truly matter. He would get his answers, and she would find out what had been done to her and she would, probably in humiliation, leave Hogwarts and leave him be again.

And as soon as that had happened, he would only have to think of something that would make Tizzy Dumbledore turn away – and he would be able to live in peace with nobody bothering about his health or his eating habits. He was a grown man, he could take care of himself. Simple as that.

"So, Mother," he said slowly, "why did you come here?"

She didn't even hesitate. "Because you're my son and I have to support you through those times."

He arched an eyebrow. Not quite what he had expected. "You've not been sent by someone to spy on me?"

"No."

"How did you know I was here?"

"Albus Dumbledore the idiotic old warmonger told me," she looked shocked, probably surprised by her own outrage. "I don't know why I said it."

Severus frowned. She disliked the old man? "Don't you like Albus Dumbledore?"

"He is a biased old man that only does what serves his purpose," she replied icily. "And I don't like him at all. At first, when he wrote me that you had changed sides, I thought he was tricking me into becoming more active in his bloody Order thing. But I had to come here because of you."

By that time, the sneer was completely gone from his face. He had not expected this. Not at all. She wasn't there because of some deeper plan, she wasn't there for her own benefit. This was not what he had wanted to hear. This was not his mother. This could not be. He had brewed it wrong. He had to make sure that she was really telling the truth.

And the simplest question, he could think of at the spur of the moment (since he had not expected his Veritaserum to be faulty), was one he always had known everyone to lie when asked.

"How are you, Mother?"

She looked puzzled, shocked, astonished. "I'm hurt because you threw me out and I want to kill McGonagall for not watching out for you better and want to tell you that I'm sorry because I am so sorry and I feel very sorry that I could not take care of you the way I should have and I feel despicable because I am a horrible mother and have never been a real mother to you and I want to be," she hesitated, frowned, seemed to understand. "And I wonder whether you've given me something to make me tell the truth."

Severus's face fell. No, this was not going as he had wanted it to go. Not at all.

xx

She understood now. She always watched what she said. She always thought about what to say, years with Tobias Snape had taught her that, but suddenly, she had found herself blurting things she had never meant to say, had found herself saying things he should not have heard.

There was only one answer to this riddle: he had drugged her. He had given her a truth serum. He had made her tell the truth.

But despite it, things were going round and round in her head and she suddenly realised that she could use this to her advantage. That she could say all the things she had wanted to say – without fearing he would doubt her. It was hard to get the words out without being asked, somehow, it took her great will to do so. But it would have to be done. She would have to use this opportunity. It would never present itself any more.

She looked deeply into his eyes – looking the same way hers did – and even though she couldn't smile, she knew he would understand, he would believe her.

"I love you, Severus. I have always loved you. You're my child, my son. I couldn't show it, I couldn't be the mother I should have been because I married the wrong man and because I was too weak to fight against him and couldn't leave him until he had died. But I was always worried about you and wish I could change everything now but I can't. I want to help you and support you and be the mother you deserve."

She gasped for air, and his jaw was completely slack, his mouth open wide, his eyes open as well and his hands wringing in his lap. She wanted to reach out and touch him but couldn't. Somehow, she didn't seem to be capable of really moving. Then his hands stilled, he looked at her, looked like a little boy, lost, and almost panicked, and suddenly, he bolted up from his seat, turned away sharply, and ran, again like a little boy, through a door, his bedroom door, to be precise and that door shut with a bang.

"Severus, come back!" she cried and shook her head to herself. This truth serum had to get out of her system, somehow. She stood up and went to his door and knocked on it. Or banged her fists against the door, and yes, she knew that it was idiotic to do so. "Open up, Severus!"

There was no answer from inside. "Severus," she cried and hit the door again. "I am not finished talking. I hated your father and I wanted to kill him but I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough but I so wanted to and I wanted to give you a safe home and," she clapped her hands in front of her mouth. It wasn't a good idea staying there. She would walk it off somewhere where there were no people around to tell the truth to. "I'm going now," she shouted through the door and stomped out, closing his door and all but running down the corridor. Not meeting anyone.

xx

Poppy wasn't sure what to do. The man sleeping there under the influence of another potion didn't need supervision and she was sure that Minerva would go and someone would have to keep an eye on her but that wasn't the biggest problem. The bigger problem was Albus standing there, and Tizzy by his side, and Minerva, for once, surprisingly quiet and nodding.

She wasn't sure whether it was smart to let Tizzy go to the meeting. Minerva, truly surprisingly not arguing about her daughter going, maybe because she understood that Tizzy would see ugly things there, right by her side in the Infirmary. And yes, Poppy understood that too but going to a meeting – she had delivered her. She had brought her into the world and she could always send her away from the Hospital Wing if there was an especially gruesome case. She would hear everything in that meeting.

But Albus was adamant this time. Said the girl needed to see the reality of it when she was working, more or less, on that cause. She had not understood that sudden change of mind at all. They had all sort of silently agreed to keep Tizzy away as long as possible. But the girl was of age and had been for over a year. There was no sense in keeping her away. If she wanted to go and if Albus, as the secret keeper took her, or told her where to go, she could go.

Tizzy glared at her and she had only uttered her doubts. Not even protested.

"Fine," she said and threw her hands in the air, "I won't say anything." And no, she would not stop Aberforth from killing his brother when he realised that he had taken his precious little girl to an Order of the Phoenix meeting. She would just stand back and watch. And Minerva seemed to have decided, suddenly, on the same thing. She held on tightly to her crutches, and shrugged.

"I can't hold you back," she said quietly. "But you will not go into the field."

Tizzy nodded solemnly. "I will stay here in the Infirmary."

"She needs to be informed. That's why I'm taking her," Albus explained and wrapped his arm around the girl's shoulder.

"Thanks," Tizzy said quietly and she put her head slightly against her uncle's shoulder.

"And we should all go now," he replied and nodding towards her and Minerva, he pulled the girl with him, and didn't wait up for them – Minerva hobbling and Poppy walking slowly beside her.

"When did you change your mind?" Poppy asked softly after a moment when Albus and Tizzy had gotten a bit away.

"I can't hold her back," she shook her head, hobbling along. "And Aberforth will come later."

"He will be angry with you as well," Poppy said gloomily.

"Probably. But I can make it up to him. And Albus can't. You know what they're like and I will not stop them this time. Albus has everything coming that Ab can dish out," she said, a smirk appearing on her face. "And let's face it, if Tizzy works here, she will get into close contact of what is happening."

Poppy chuckled. "You've come a long way, dear."

Minerva sighed, "Yes. I can't have her locked away forever, Poppy. She's seen me coming back, she seen Severus Snape coming back, she's seen this lad in the Infirmary now and she will see more if she's staying with you..."

"Which I don't doubt..."

"Which you don't doubt and when I'm honest, which I don't doubt either. And she has to know who else is in there and what we do. I wish I could keep her a little girl, but I can't."

"And when you were her age, you helped Albus fight Grindelwald," Poppy interrupted.

"Yes, and that," Minerva sighed again. "And look at the Potters and Sirius and Peter. They're only a bit older. I can't always protect her," she said gloomily. "But as an added bonus, I might see a nice duel between Albus and Aberforth."

xx

Alb beckoned her closer and whispered an address in her ear. "17 High Street, Lower Gillbow," and a moment later, he had hugged her tightly and apparated both of them away. She had been very surprised that Alb had come and told her that he wanted her to come. Mum had been quiet about this, Poppy had doubts and she didn't even think about Dad. Dad would probably flip when he saw her there. But she could make it up to him. And maybe he wasn't coming. That would probably best.

She landed on her feet in front of an old, run down building in the middle of some town she had never heard of. Alb nodded at her quickly, and his arm still around her shoulder, he pulled her with him. "You know," he said gently, "that nobody can know about Severus being the spy."

She nodded. "Of course."

"Good," he smiled and kissed her temple and his eyes twinkled.

She swallowed – being a bit nervous. She wasn't sure why but now she would finally figure out what all this was about. And she would understand things, she would be able to work better, she would be able to listen to Mum and Dad and Alb talking. Though, really, she didn't want Dad to be there. He would probably start on Alb again and that couldn't be good. She had heard about them fighting. It was almost like a family legend already, them fighting over one thing or another. Mum wouldn't tell her what it was really about (and yes, Tizzy thought there was some deeper reason for this) and both of them didn't talk about the other. Oh well, she would find out.

But what a day. She had barely recovered from having actually had the audacity to kiss Severus (and oh Merlin, she didn't really want to forget and at the same time, wanted to forget because it had been wonderful and lovely and he had tasted so like Severus, like she had imagined him to taste and his lips had been a little chapped, but only a little, and oh dear, she wanted to do it again. Really. But no, not thinking about it now), when Albus had told her to get her cloak. Some day that day.

The inside of the building they were entering was so much more inviting than the outside, warm lights, candles, carpet. And suddenly, two young men there, in the hallway, a bit older than her, probably Severus's age.

"Evening, Professor Dumbledore," both of them said at the same time and grinned boyishly and one of them stepped forward and took her hand – smiled at her and kissed it.

"I'm Sirius Black," he said smoothly just before she pulled her hand away, frowned and wiped it on her cloak.

"Good for you," she huffed – that sort of behaviour was just beyond her. And she had kissed Severus. Compared to Severus, this bloke was – well, not her type. He was too cute and nice and smooth and just not Severus.

"I'm James Potter," the other guy said and chuckled. "Don't take Sirius seriously," he said and shook his head at the bad pun, probably.

"James?" a woman, reddish hair, came into the hallway. "Did you check on Harry?"

The sensible type nodded. "He's sleeping."

"Yeah, he's sleeping. Have you met this beautiful woman here, Lily?" the sleazy dirtbag winked at her.

"Hi," the woman said and smiled at her and Alb. "Hello Headmaster."

"Hi," Tizzy replied. "I'm Tizzy."

"She's my niece," Alb explained. "And maybe she should meet the rest of us?"

"Tisiphone?" she heard and closed her eyes. Oh no. Oh no. No. No. Not Dad. This would end bad. "What are you doing here?" he thundered and she turned around slowly.

"Hi Dad," she said and smiled brightly.

"Tisiphone? Explain?"

She heard the door behind her opening and she knew from the noise that it was Mum coming in. The crutches could be heard very clearly, even on the carpet.

"I erm, I just came," she answered.

"She is of age, Aberforth," Alb said gently. "She is entitled to be here if she wants."

"You brought her here?" he shouted and Tizzy knew that she could just move away. Poppy gestured her and she followed the gesture, coming to stand between Mum and Poppy. She felt a hand on her back, and at first, well, it was only natural to think that it would be Poppy, but looking down, she saw Mum's hand not on her crutch but the crutch hovering simply by her – and both of Poppy's hands in front of her stomach. Mum supporting her in this? Who was always against it? Against her being a part of this? Strange.

She was so startled, by this, that she almost missed her Dad and uncle suddenly beginning to duel.

Dad shot the first one, just after shouting, "You won't kill another one." And she truly didn't understand it but she didn't even have time to try and understand because at the same time, she had to crouch and Mum and Poppy beside her crouched and the two blokes and the woman crouched because there were hexes flying and the two of them were locked in a duel, both deflecting every single hex, and shielding.

"Mum, what's happening?" Tizzy asked, bending over to her Mother. "Is this because I'm here?"

Mum sighed, stroked her back and shook her head. "No, dearest, not only."

Tizzy frowned. No, she didn't understand and once more, she knew that people weren't telling her anything. Just kept her in the dark again. She looked up, and her Father and uncle were getting closer to one another – and suddenly, the wand was gone from Dad's hand, and that hand was suddenly a fist – and that connected to Alb's nose and there was a crunching noise and blood shot out.

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open, Mum next to her gasped, Poppy was already up, rushing to Alb's side and Tizzy shook her head, thinking that this truly was a day to remember.

_**xx**_

_**Thank you for reading and don't forget to review (and I do hope that ff net's notifications are working again!)**_


	21. Chapter 21

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

Nobody saw it except Tizzy, but Minerva did hold her husband's hand underneath the table. It was a little bruised and she only lightly stroked over his knuckles, soothing him. Luckily, Albus had taken a seat at the complete opposite of the room and there was a huge table between the brothers – and about 20 people. She understood Aberforth. She had heard the story of Ariana very early on. Well, basically the moment that Aberforth realised she was going back to Hogwarts to teach. He said that she could not possible work under her brother. Because of Ariana. And there was always the underlying thing between them. Ariana was always between them. And she understood that Aberforth hated seeing his little girl being in danger. She truly understood. But she would have to have a quiet word with him about it.

Because, well, seriously, hitting him in front of all those people – oh well. She had wanted to see it and it had been, well, entertaining to watch. Until the moment that blood had come splattering out of Albus's nose. There had been gasps and Poppy had jumped up and Tizzy had looked utterly shocked. Well, she would. The girl had never really been told why the two of them did not get along. And had never witnessed them fighting to that extent. She would have to talk to her. Explain that there was a cause and that this was not solely about her safety. Well, this about her safety and about him protecting his little girl, but he did not want to see one of those he loved die. Not again.

She brushed her thumb over his knuckles again and then squeezed his hand just a little. He looked at her for a second and those blue eyes held hers and she knew that she was forgiven. She leant a little closer to him and smiled, only half listening to what was said. She would hear it again anyway.

"Minerva," he whispered and bent closer to her. "She will not be going to any kind of battle."

"Of course she won't," she answered quietly, "she will stay in the Infirmary with Poppy." And only then she realised that nobody had told him about that yet. Big mistake.

"Why?" he asked.

"She's trying out being a healer. And she seems quite adamant on it," she said in a low voice. "She made the decision without talking to me before."

"No."

"Aberforth, you can't protect her forever," she hissed and tightened her hold on his hand, "and if she wants to be a healer, then so be it. At least then she will be busy in the castle and Poppy will keep an eye on her."

He sort of huffed, then let his other hand rest on their entwined ones and nodded slowly.

"And Severus Snape is out new potions teacher," Minerva heard Albus say and she closed her eyes. Oh, this was a very bad idea. A very, very bad idea with the Potters there and Sirius Black. At least Peter Pettigrew was on some kind of mission that she did not know exactly what it was about. Lily was a sweet girl, really but when it came to Severus Snape, she could be quite cold-hearted. Well, Lily was used to being loved, used to being liked, used to being protected by others (even though she could hold her own very well) and she wasn't that used to being insulted. At least not by people she considered her friends. She wasn't forgiving either, at least not when it came to Severus Snape. She had seen the poor boy sitting in front of the Common Room, waiting for her, wanting to apologise. But Lily had not come out.

And Prince had been right. She had not helped him then. A quiet word with Lily and they would have probably stayed friends but she had kept out. And that was not her wisest decision ever.

And yes, there they went. Lily steely-eyed, Sirius's face reddening, James's jaw clenching. She bet with herself – that Sirius would be the first to shout, and well, she won.

"Are you serious? He's a Death Eater!" he shouted.

"It's not confirmed," Remus, luckily, the reasonable one, interjected.

"Oh don't be daft, Remus," Sirius shouted back. "We all know where he would go right after school and just because we have never seen him at one of those things they do doesn't mean that he's not there."

Lily's eyes were still flinty and her voice cold when she spoke. "He is not fit to teaching innocent children."

Minerva heard a tiny gasp from her left and turning her head, she saw her daughter, looking wide-eyed. Of course she knew nothing about this. She had been away to school. Knew none of those students. But before Minerva could put a soothing hand on Tisiphone's thigh, or hand, the girl spoke. "How do you know him?" she asked – but in what an innocent voice – and what an innocent face.

"How do you know the greasy git?" Sirius Black growled.

"I live at the castle," she replied in the same tone she probably would have used to explain a small child something, "and he lives in the castle. I have seen him once or twice. And how you know him?"

"We were at school together," Black replied.

"Keep away from him," Lily hissed. "He pretends to be your friend but at the same time, he will think badly of you. And will never tell you."

"What?" Tizzy asked, shaking her head. "I haven't talked to him a lot but he seems like a decent bloke."

"He's not," James suddenly said – gravely.

"Erm, okay," Tizzy smiled and Minerva had to admire her daughter. She knew that Tizzy had a thing for Severus Snape, and Tizzy knew about the role he was playing. But she pulled it off – pretending not to know him well. "Why?" she asked and Minerva almost groaned. Almost.

"Because he is a Death Eater," Sirius cried.

"Keep away from him," Lily said softly. "He'll only hurt you."

Tizzy nodded and smiled gently. "Okay, I will."

xx

That was – interesting. Apparently, the three of them did not like Severus. And the one who seemed the same age, was more peaceful. But especially the girl – Lily – really seemed to hate him. Maybe, Severus and her had been, well, together, and he had ended it. And now she was apparently with that bloke who had remained relatively silent but he seemed odd, always had his fingers in his hair, trying to smooth it down or something and he held the girl's hand quite ostentatiously, from time to time during the meeting, he had lifted the hand and had kissed it. And some time after they had more or less discussed Severus, there had been a cry from the woman's wand and the bloke had gotten up to 'look after little Harry'.

And no, she had absolutely no intention of staying away from Severus. Absolutely not in the slightest. On the contrary. Those people obviously were not his friends. And it was strange, really, that that Lily girl's eyes had softened when they had moved on to another topic. Before that, the green had looked cold and flinty. Not now, now that they were discussing a poor woman's murder (by Death Eaters, obviously), they were full of tears and misery. Warm. Feeling.

Tizzy stole a glance at her once in a while. She knew how to appear dumb and innocent and naïve. And those people had bought it off her. But no, she would certainly not leave Severus alone. Severus had her. And she had kissed him and she was in love with him. And if he hurt her, oh well, it couldn't be so bad. He had already thrown her out of his quarters. And while that had stung, well, okay, it hand stung. And it had hurt but they didn't know each other that well yet. She would put that stupid kiss behind her and would make friends with him first. And would be there for him. Since those idiots over there still thought he was bad and evil. She knew for a fact that he wasn't. And if that stupid woman had seen how bloody and mangled her had come back, how empty he looked when he returned from – well, there – she would probably change her mind. Or not. She did not trust those green eyes at all.

But the matter was simple and to make a plan even simpler. She would befriend Severus, would stick by his side and wait for him to come onto her (since, well, he knew now how she felt) and only subtly push.

And then there was the matter of Dad and Alb. Something like, 'you won't kill another one.' That was truly strange. And then Dad had just hit him. She exhaled too loudly, too many mysteries to solve and frowned.

"Tisiphone," her father said suddenly and pulled her up by the elbow. "We're going home."

Apparently, she had missed the rest of the meeting – and had spent it daydreaming. "Mh," she mumbled and nodded. She flipped the pendant watch, always hanging around her neck, open and was surprised to see that it was already quite close to midnight. Well, she would think about another pretext to see Severus. And maybe she could still talk him out of taking the Veritaserum to...oh, she would have to tell that Alb. Or Mum. Maybe rather Mum. She wasn't sure how Dad would react if she spoke to her Uncle. And Dad was already angry at her – or so the gripping hand on her elbow implied. She had heard the whisperings of her Mother and Father, and yes, she had not yet told Dad about working in the Infirmary and becoming a Healer. She really should have but he was always so protective and always wanting to keep her from the realities of life. Their lives.

"I hope to see you again soon," that sleazy lad had come to her again and before he could hold her hand, she had put it behind her back, yanking herself free of her Father as well.

"We'll see," she said coldly and effectively silenced Dad who wanted to answer in her stead.

Home. And tell Mum about the Veritaserum and then bed. She needed to think.

xx

He had paced, he had paced some more, had then paced. Couldn't believe she had told the truth but his Veritaserum had been impeccable. It was perfect. He had tested it, just between the pacing and the pacing and after he had heard her leave. Had taken a drop of the clear liquid and had asked himself questions. And it was perfect. Even if he had told himself things that he did not want to hear. Yes, he had kind of liked the kiss that Tizzy had given him. And he was astonished that she would do this. The perfect, protected, sheltered little girl had kissed him of her own doing. And he had told himself that he was shocked that his Mother told him what she had said. But at the same time, he had also admitted to himself (vowing at the same time never to self-medicate with Veritaserum afterwards) that he had longed to hear such words. Years ago. Not now. Now it was too late.

He had walked the effects off – and it had only been a drop. And he had thought and thought. He had not wanted to hear this. It was like a slap in the face and a punch in the stomach at the same time.

She loved him.

It couldn't be. She had never expressed her love before why should she do it now? It was not true. But it had to be true.

She loved him.

Nobody loved him. He was not someone to love. He had committed crimes, he was a despicable person. Not someone to love. Lily hadn't loved him and she was the only one on his mind. She was why he did all this and she was the reason for his still being. And she was the person most capable of loving – and if she wasn't able to love him, nobody would.

But his mother.

He had so often, as a little boy, wished that his parents were dead. He had daydreamed about being taken in by the Evanses. Throwing Petunia out and taking him in instead. And obviously that had never happened and he had lost hope after a while – and had hoped to stay at Hogwarts during all the holidays. And that had never worked either. After school, he had left home. And had never wanted to return. And never would – but now his mother came there, and under Veritaserum told him she loved him.

The gall of that woman. It shook him and the pacing had exhausted him. Probably it was just the pacing and he flopped down on the bed, feeling utterly tired and worn out. He toed his shoes off and rolled onto the bed, curling together, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. This was too much. It was just too much.

Severus drew a shaky breath and pressed his eyelids together tightly.

xx

Albus Dumbledore walked tiredly through the halls of Hogwarts. He was beyond sleeping at that point and despite all of Poppy's healing charms, and all of the emergency help she had given him, it still hurt and when he touched it. This wasn't only about Tizzy and he, as well as Aberforth knew it.

And he didn't want to risk anyone's life, least of all Tisiphone's. He loved that girl and he would have been happy to put her in some room at Hogwarts and not letting her out until that war was over. But it wasn't possible and he knew it and Aberforth should know it. The girl was old enough and the Infirmary the safest place imaginable. Poppy would take care of her and would not let her rush off to danger.

"Can't sleep?" he heard suddenly and with his arm outstretched, he swung around. Those were dark times and you could never be more careful. But when his eyes focused on the figure sitting in a nook in that dark corridor, he let his arm fall limply to his side.

"No," he said to the Swedish stranger. "I can't sleep and we've had a meeting tonight."

"Your nose," Lasse said gently and patted the seat next to him. "Von't you sit down?"

Albus found himself suddenly sitting beside the man and sighed.

"You are oll vorn sinn," he said gently. "You and ze Poppy Pomfrey and ze girl and ze man who brought me here."

"We all are. It has been going on for so long and I don't know how to end it."

Lasse Hallstrøm nodded and smiled gently at him, blue eyes meeting his. "I vill help you," he said.

_**xx**_

_**Thank you for reading and don't forget to review!**_


	22. Chapter 22

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

When Severus Snape had been a boy, a little one, still untouched by knowing about magic and thinking, he was quite the normal boy, with parents who were emotionally absent, when Severus Snape had been little, he had wanted to be a train conductor. When he had grown and his mother had told him about magic, and he read about it, he had actually wanted to work for the Ministry, go to work every day, be a good employee, bring home money. When he had attended Hogwarts, and had his first real contact with Potions, it was crystal clear, that he wanted to brew them for the rest of his life.

And then things had changed. Well, he still liked Potions, obviously, all during school but he had not really made any plans and after passing his NEWTs, he had worked on his Potions, had brewed more or less freelance for St Mungo's and the apothecary in Diagon Alley for his daily costs and his rent.

Not a steady job. But he had learned a lot, had wanted to do some day open his own apothecary, maybe. But he had never in his life even remotely considered the possibility that he might be, one day, teaching how to brew. He couldn't imagine it. And he had only one day to prepare for this to happen. And he had no idea what to do, what to teach them. What to tell them. Well, he knew what kind of potions every year would have to do but he had no idea how to get them to do what he wanted them to do.

Tisiphone Dumbledore, who somehow made it a point of dropping by his lab every day (though he had no idea why and she had never spoken of that kiss again, had merely asked whether she could observe him brewing and he let her)had mentioned that it would come to him – without him asking for her opinion. He did not believe that. But he could go over his notes again and again and he had no clue what to tell them, how to start.

Instead, he sat in his lab over a scribbled on piece of parchment. He had half expected that girl to run to her uncle and tell her that he had brewed Veritaserum. He couldn't truly blame her. He would have, probably, done the same. But the old man had said only little. Had merely asked if there was an antidote, or if there way to make one. And Severus tried. But all he had found until now was a potion that gave the drinker a little more time to answer but spoke – after that moment's hesitation – much faster than usual. Not really an improvement but since the old man had not asked more about it, he probably assumed that the Dark Lord had not asked for it yet. And he wasn't really sure whether to tell the old man that the potion had not been for the Dark Lord at all. But had been for his mother.

And he avoided his mother like the plague ever since. He wasn't sure he could look her in the eyes. And he wasn't sure either whether she wanted to see him either. Avoiding her was best and the house elves were accommodating when it came to meals in his rooms. And it was only Tizzy after all, who wondered whether he'd eaten. But she seemed to have good connections to the elves and never once asked.

He sort of appreciated it. And while he would have preferred to brew alone, she kept mostly quiet and just stood there, watched. Not even that close to him, mostly. She was just there and it had surprised him. Had surprised him that she was capable of keeping quiet, of observing and of not bothering him at all. She was just there, every day.

There was a knock on the door to his lab – and he knew it was her. She had a very specific knock. He shrugged to himself and rolled up the parchment before he went to the door and opened it.

xx

She kept quiet. She let him brew and she waited. She waited for him to say something, do something, to begin to trust her. She knew that he kept to himself, that he did not talk to anyone but Alb and herself. The elves were good with telling her what he ate, and what he did. Yes, yes, the spying wasn't good and fair and all that but she had to know that he didn't starve himself. And he didn't. And she would be there. When he was ready to talk to her, she would be there.

She went down to his lab every day after Poppy let her go from the Infirmary. It had been quiet these past two, three weeks. It seems almost as if the Death Eaters and He-who-must-not-be-named also took their summer holidays, now, so close to when the school was starting again. Still, she was worried about Severus – but he was okay. He was alright. He was in his lab every night and had only once been brought to them to the Infirmary. But that had been only a minor wound on the cheek and she had kept behind Poppy and had just watched as well. Always only watched though she really wanted to – well, do something, help, to the point of feeling her fingers twitch and she had to bite her tongue from time to time. Oh but she was determined. Determined to be quiet and to let him come to her. Despite the fact that it was very, very difficult from time to time.

She knocked on her door – and she had made it a point of always knocking in the same way so he knew it was her and a moment later, he opened the door.

She smiled at him – and oh he was so handsome standing there in his black trousers and the frock coat he had taken to wearing and his eyes piercing hers.

"Hi," she said gently. "May I come in?" She always asked, he always nodded briefly and stepped aside. It was no difference this time and she pointed at a chair, making sure it was alright that she sat down – and again, he nodded. She smiled as gently as she could, and thought about how to phrase her question without offending him. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, for only a moment, only so long as it took him to sit on the stool in front of his work table, then let the lip slide out.

"Severus, erm, are you nervous?" she asked quietly.

"Nervous?" he asked back. "About what? No."

"About school starting tomorrow and classes the day after that. I'd be terrified having to stand in front of all those noisy children."

He looked at her, seemed to ponder about her words, seemed not to know what to answer, what to say and she knew that it was uncomfortable for him and that this was the turning point. Or maybe not. If he was honest, they could become friends and from there, eventually, hopefully, Severus Snape would grow to like her more and be eventually, hopefully, one day her boyfriend. If he wasn't, or if he didn't answer, well, she wouldn't stop being there for him. But it would make things more difficult for her.

"Not nervous, no," he said slowly, "but..."

She waited. No pressure on that man. He would have to talk. She had talked all day long. With Mum and Dad, with Poppy, with Lasse (who was still there, oddly, staying somewhere in the castle and spent most of his time with Alb), had had lunch with Eileen (who rarely talked either these days), and had briefly seen Alb. So she didn't have to talk any more. But he had to.

"Some of those students have known me as a student myself," he said softly, not looking at her.

Tizzy waited for a moment, waited whether he had something more to say, but he remained quiet, staring at the empty cauldron in front of him.

"My mother says that you need to make them respect you and your subject right from the start. She says fear works well in most cases. And letting them know that you're the boss in the classroom," she shrugged. "She says that it's the only thing that works."

He looked up at her briefly and nodded pensively. "I remember," he said.

Tizzy couldn't help but chuckle. "I bet. Mum can be quite scary when she wants to be."

He still looked at her, a corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly and she had to grin. "You don't even know half of it. She is my mother. I grew up with her being scary."

"She came in," he said slowly, carefully, "and threatened to throw us out if we didn't behave. Nobody doubted that."

Tizzy laughed. There was something, a sense of humour lying underneath all those black clothes and curtain of hair and those dark eyes. She frowned mockingly. "Well, she never threatened to throw me out. Not yet, anyway, but can you imagine sitting in front of a huge plate full of greens and seeing her stern face? You know that stern face, right? Those lines around her mouth and eyes, and telling you that you will eat that now or else, you know that you have to eat – or else."

Severus Snape – at that – cracked a tiny smile. And she knew that she had him. In a way. "Maybe you should tell them about potions and how dangerous they can be. Or how beautiful in their danger. Or the other way around." She smiled back. "And threaten to throw them out. Or have them expelled but you have to look like you mean it. We had a teacher who always said it but smiled when he said it. Nobody took him seriously."

He arched his eyebrows. "I think I got it," he replied.

xx

He hovered silvery white, smiling, opposite to the chair she was sitting on, legs crossed, her shoes discarded underneath the chair and her skirt smoothed over her knees. She had taken to wearing wizarding clothes again since coming back to Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore had offered her to help Irma Pince sorting the library and maybe she would. So far, she had spent her days walking, thinking, reading, talking to mainly the Bloody Baron – sometimes Poppy Pomfrey or Tisiphone Dumbledore. She only glared at McGonagall when she saw her and avoided her most of the other times – as she tried to avoid Albus Dumbledore. And the only other person she wanted – and had tried to talk to – avoided her like the black plague. Avoided her like death personified.

And she had only the Bloody Baron to talk about this. And he listened, gave wise advice, and spent most every evening with her. He was still a mystery to her – never talked about himself really – and just having someone who listened was something almost new to her. Hadn't had that since school and her interactions with him then.

"I don't know what else to do," she said softly, her hands nervously wringing in her lap. "I don't know if I can, or should, stay here when the students arrive. I haven't talked to him since he drugged me and heard the truth. I have only had a glimpse of him since then. He almost never leaves his quarters and I can't get in any more."

"Yes, I know. Your son is a very talented, very powerful wizard. And he used Muggle technology as well, Eileen Prince," he said gently. "I can't let you in either, I'm afraid."

"I know," she replied, nodding, "I know. And it doesn't matter. He wouldn't want to talk to me then and it wouldn't improve how he feels about me."

"He is only confused, Eileen Prince," he whispered and hovered closer, moved his hand towards her – as if he wanted to touch her. And that touch would probably not be unwanted either. But he couldn't touch her. And she couldn't touch him either. Instead, he held his hand over hers and she felt the cold radiating from him. It was odd, really, since he was such a warm, kind person, but he radiated cold and she could feel him like this.

A tired smile was creeping across her features and the ghost smiled back. "He will come back to you, Eileen Prince. In due time, he will appreciate what you did for him and what you're doing for him now. But he is still just a boy."

"He's my boy, Baron. And I can't help him," she replied and hung her head low, dropping her face into her hands.

"You will be able to help him when the time comes. Have a bit more patience, and you will be rewarded. Soon."

She looked up at the ghost and felt the cold air at her cheek, his silvery white hand hovering next to it. "Have faith, Eileen Prince. Have faith in yourself and in your son."

xx

It was all very quiet. Too quiet for Minerva's taste. It was either that Severus Snape's informations were so brilliant (not that her dear brother-in-law shared anything with her) or the Death Eaters and their stupid, horrible leader were all on vacation somewhere in Torquay, maybe. No, it was not time for jokes. It was too quiet. It was making her edgy and she knew somewhere in her bones that something big was about to happen. And she was not prepared and Albus never said anything.

Oh no, Albus always only talked to that Swedish Lasse-Thingummy-Person and could only be seen with him. Seriously. Even that thing with the Veritaserum that Tizzy had told her (oh that girl was getting in deeper and deeper with Severus Snape and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, she could do about it), and which she had told Albus, he had known about it and had suggested an antidote.

She wasn't sure why Albus trusted that man so much but he did. He was a nice lad, yes, but she remained suspicious. It was appropriate in situations like this. In times like those. She would keep a close eye on that man. And on her daughter. Apart from watching the students. And teaching. And being Deputy Head which meant doing all the paperwork for Albus. And, of course, still those missions for the order.

"I can forget about sleep then," she muttered to herself and had quite forgotten that her husband sat there, reading.

"You're going to stretch yourself too thin again," he frowned. "And by the end of the second week of term, you will need potions to keep you upright."

She sighed and toed her shoes off, pulling her feet underneath herself and bending sideways to snuggle against him. "And you will force me to sleep."

"I'd rather you stopped doing those missions during the night. And tell my brother to do his paperwork alone. Besides, you will have Tizzy here. Merlin knows what she'll be up to," he said, his voice slightly angry but he betrayed himself by wrapping his arm around her and pulling her closer, with a wave of his hand undoing her tight bun at the back of her hand and a moment later, ran his fingers through her hair.

"Tizzy is taken care of. Poppy and the accident-prone students will make sure of that. The paperwork is only tough the first few weeks of term, maybe I will have good Gryffindors for once, my syllabus is done, and it's been very quiet lately," she argued but it wasn't as fierce as it would have usually been. His hand in her hair, fingers massaging the prickling scalp that hurt from the tight bun, and his arm around her took a lot of her sternness away. She hummed a moment later in pleasure but stopped when she caught a glimpse of his smug smirk.

"Oh stop that. You know that my head hurts from the bun," she huffed and tried to pull away but he held on tightly to her. "Aberforth," she began slowly, "what do you think of that Swedish man?"

And that – only that, not even mentioning Albus directly – made him huff himself and roll his eyes. "I don't care. I want my girls safe and the rest, I don't care about."

"Your girls," Minerva muttered. "I'm suspicious. I don't trust him."

"And you will keep an eye on him," he sighed. "Just another thing on your list of things to do and I never get to see my wife."

She chuckled and turned slightly to him. "My poor husband," she whispered and kissed him gently.

_**xx**_

_**Thank you for reading and don't forget to review.**_


	23. Chapter 23

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx **_

He straightened his frock coat, buttoned up to the top, after he had tied his new dragonhide boots (and now, his account at Gringotts was empty), and then wrapped himself into his freshly washed and ironed black robes. The Welcoming Feast had gone better than he had expected. Those students he had recognised from his own school days had merely gaped, well, a few Slytherins who had the Mark themselves, or whose parents had, had looked half astonished, half knowing or suspecting. He knew he would have to keep an eye on them. And maybe, probably, reward them more points than the rest. If he even would reward points.

He had been afraid to lose points for his House during his time there. And maybe it was especially drastic in Slytherin – that anyone who lost points was frowned upon and ostracised. At least for a while, those with standing amongst the Slytherins for a shorter amount of time, those loners like him, longer. He doubted that had changed and he would have to see who was treated how. But since the giving and taking of points seemed more or less random, arbitrary, he would have to see how he would award or dock them.

But the Welcoming Feast had been alright – he had been introduced, and had only nodded quickly, with a scowl and even though Tisiphone Dumbledore (who had just sat down next to him, without asking) had giggled softly at that, he had ignored her. He did not enjoy being observed by so many people – even though those were children – while he was eating but the old man had made it very clear that short of being called to the Dark Lord's side, nothing was to keep him from coming. And he had of course listened to what he had told him to do and had pushed his foot a little around his plate, then, as soon as it was possible, had left. And best of all was that his mother had not been present. He could have sworn she would be there – trapping him – but she hadn't been. Maybe she had left already. Maybe she wasn't at the castle any more. And she had accepted that he did not know what to make of it and didn't want to see her. But maybe she was still there, lurking somewhere, waiting for him and surprising him. But he had not seen her. Not even at breakfast (the old man had said it would be good for him to be there) and not on his way to his office, then his classroom to check everything was alright, then back to his office (of course she couldn't find him there – he had a door from the classroom to the office). And now, now he didn't want to think about her. Now, he needed to focus on the second year Gryffindor and Hufflepuffs.

He would only enter the classroom when the students were in already. Then he would explain the rules in his classroom and would set them to work straight away. Couldn't let them slack or sit around. They would have to work hard in his class, that much he was sure of. If he expected a lot of them, and made sure that he took no nonsense (especially during Potions, which could be dangerous) from them, they would probably behave themselves. Or that was just wishful thinking on his part and within a day, this classroom would be shredded to pieces or there'd be deadly fumes.

He clenched his hands to fists, tried to forget about the clamminess of them, and drew a deep breath before he left his office through the door to the corridor, drew another deep breath and with a wave of his wand, opened the door to his classroom – and as soon as he was through, he closed it with his wand as well. He barely let them take their time to look at him – and oh, had second years always been this small? – before he walked quickly to the front of the class and turned around quickly, his robes, he noticed now, billowing around his dragonhide boots.

"You are here to learn the art of potion-making, and only potion-making. Few of you will appreciate the lack of stupid wand-waving in this class but let me tell you that there is the door," he pointed at it, his hands still very clammy and cold but at least they were steady. "You will pay attention, you will not talk, you will not whisper, you will not mess with your fellow students' potions. My predecessor might have seen this differently, but I will not hesitate to throw you out of this class if you do not obey my rules."

He stopped, letting his eyes roam over the class and there was a boy, second row left, with a Gryffindor crest on his chest. He laughed openly, only a tiny noise escaping his throat, but he was still laughing and nudging his neighbour and seemed to want to bend over to whisper something in his neighbour's ear. And he knew this was the opportunity to make an example. This would be talked about – but it would ensure that he would be feared.

"What is your name?" he pointed at the still-laughing student and kept his gaze cold. The student fell silent immediately – and paled a little.

"Christian Prewett," he said and with that typical Gryffindor trait he remembered from his own school days, he stared right back at him, and despite the paleness of his features, he seemed bold. And not using any kind of title. Time to strike.

"I notice everything, Mister Prewett. It seems my first rule has not yet come through to you. Hence, you will probably not have heard what the consequences are. I will repeat it once for your sake," he said quietly and knew that he had the attention of everyone in this classroom. "Violation of my rules results in expulsion from my classroom. Do you understand, Mister Prewett?"

He wondered, briefly, how this Gryffindor second year was related to the Prewett-twins that had been killed only a few months prior but it didn't matter really. On the contrary. If this story made the rounds through the school, it would get back to a few Death Eating parents – and they would relay it to the Dark Lord, furthering his standing with him – and, in effect, allowing him maybe a little closer to the Dark Lord. Which would help him with his standing and respect with the old man. And it would help Lily. All for Lily.

"Yes, I understand, sir," he said now, quietly, and probably a bit afraid.

Severus arched an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest, he walked towards the second year's desk, coming to a halt just in front of it and looking down at him, "And you're still sitting here?"

"But I wasn't...," he tried to protest.

"Mister Prewett," he only said, and knew that his face was very threatening. He didn't really want to throw him out and he would maybe let him back in after a week or so, but this had to be done. Stories like that made it through Hogwarts quickly, he remembered. And suddenly, he realised that it wasn't quite so bad not to be out of school for a long time. He knew the way things worked, and how students worked. He knew. He sneered down at the second year who still sat there. He uncrossed his arms and pointed at the door. "Have a nice day, Mister Prewett."

xx

Tizzy had crossed her fingers underneath the desk she sat at. She had followed Poppy there, had dragged a chair up and observed how the mediwitch (who had, by now, accepted her as a full apprentice) compiled files for the new first years. She crossed her fingers, simply because she knew that by now, Severus's first class had started and she just hoped that he was doing okay. She knew he was great with potions but his ability with people? She wasn't sure about that. But at least he had been safe lately and he had not come to the hospital wing, had not been called to the Dark Lord. And Mum had been save as well. She had not left once.

"Could you put those away?" Poppy asked, and pulled Tizzy from her musings about Severus. She pointed at the files in front of her. She nodded quickly and picked them up but hesitated a moment.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked quietly, a thought coming from the back of her head – and pushing insistently to the front.

"Yes, of course," the mediwitch smiled. "Put them away first and I'll make tea in the meantime."

Tizzy nodded, rushed to the cabinet that was full of thick folders of files and stuffed those she had in her hand in the empty room reserved for the first years. She returned to two cups of steaming tea and Poppy, waiting for her.

"Ask away, dear," she said gently.

"It's not technically about healing," she replied slowly, hesitantly.

"You can still ask, Tizzy. You know that," Poppy said gently and put her hand over Tizzy's, holding it. "No matter what."

"I'm wondering about this entire Death Eater, You-know-who, stuff. So many things happened in such a short time and now..."

"Now there's nothing, yes," she interrupted pensively. "We're all wondering about that, I think."

"And Severus wasn't called back, was he?"

Poppy shook her head. "Not that I know of. He never came here and I suspect he would have. The emergency portkey he was given would bring him straight to here. And none of us were informed about anything. But this quietness is very worrying."

"Do you think there'll be something big happening? Wouldn't Severus know?"

Poppy sighed. "I don't know. I don't know how their organisation works, love. But yes, I do think that there will be something happening. And I might need you here when it does."

"Of course," Tizzy nodded. "My fireplace is now open to the rest of the castle. I can't get outside but I don't think a lot of the fireplaces are connected to the outside floo anyway. Dad put up a bit of a fuss but Mum said there might be an emergency."

Poppy nodded. "Yes, she's right. And I know she's accepted you being here."

Tizzy grinned broadly. "Yeah, she's happy I'm not whining about joining the fights myself any more. Dad wants to protect me though."

"Of course he does, love. He's lost too many people already. He's afraid. He can't lose you. Or your mother."

Tizzy frowned. "What happened?"

Poppy smiled and shook her head. "It's not my place to tell you. There was something in your father's youth and it has been traumatic, I suppose. But you would have to ask him yourself."

Tizzy nodded and put her head against her Poppy's (yes, her Poppy – she had known this woman all her life) shoulder and sighed. "Is that why he's so overprotective?"

"Yes," she sighed as well and put her cheek gently on top of her head. "He lost someone he loved very much and he loves you and your mother more than anything in the world. Of course he wants to protect you. You're his little girl, his baby. And you'll always be."

xx

She hugged the girl tightly. Poppy understood her confusion and her fear. They were all afraid that there was a major fight coming soon – it had been too quiet, too calm. No casualties, no muggle catastrophes, nothing. She slept in the Infirmary constantly these days, if she slept at all, for fear of being a second too late when someone was being sent out – and coming back in wounded. But it was good to know that Tizzy would be only a floo-call away. And she would not hesitate to call her when worst came to worst. The girl had to learn. And she would teach her well. As well as she could anyway. She held her tight and vowed to herself that she would keep this girl safe but would teach her – teach her to save people as well.

"I hope I'm not disturbing," she heard suddenly behind her – in that accent she had come to know. Lasse Hallstrøm. The Swedish enigma that spent all his time with Albus. And truth be told, Poppy wasn't sure what there was between those two men. But she knew that the Swedish bloke had experience with dark wizards and that he was probably only giving Albus support.

Tizzy's head shot up from where it rested on her shoulder and stared at the man but she couldn't help but smile seeing the man. He smiled, and looked rather relaxed. His eyes were twinkling, much like Albus's usually did. For a moment though, only, then he turned serious.

"Ze Headmaster sent me down here because he is busy but he says zat you should maybe be prepared for something happening tonight. He is not at all sure but zere have been rumours."

"Really?" Tizzy asked. "We just talked about it."

"Because it is too quiet, yes," Lasse replied. "Albus zinks zat zey will strike tonight and ze Order is alerted and ze Aurors as well."

Poppy nodded. "Thank you, Mister Hallstrøm. We're prepared. Does Severus know?"

The man shook his head. "He told me to come here first, then go on the rounds."

Poppy sighed and brought her hand up to Tizzy's cheek. She knew she liked the bloke – and it would give her a chance to be with him. "Tisiphone, please run down to the dungeons and tell him, ask him what he knows and make sure he knows to take his portkey."

The girl smiled, and before anyone could say another word, she had darted off.

xx

Minerva couldn't believe her ears and she had to storm down to the dungeons as soon as she could – after classes. She had no other choice. Expelling a student from his classroom the very first day? He could not possibly be serious. Yes, yes, she threatened with that every year, at the beginning of term, and for every year, from the little ones to the NEWT students, but she had never gone through with it. And there he was, and throwing out one of her Gryffindors. In his very first class he ever taught.

She banged against the door to his office and without waiting for an answer, she stormed in. He sat there, behind that large, dark desk, a parchment in front of him.

"How dare you?" she cried indignantly.

"Excuse me?" he asked, frowning.

"Christian Prewett, Severus. This morning."

"Ah yes," he smirked and he suddenly looked very young. Almost chipper about this.

"Severus, you can't throw him out. He's a second year. He will not have a career without at least a potions OWL. Let him back in."

He still smirked and she couldn't understand, rushed to his desk, and banging her fist on it. "Damn it," she cried out. "Why are you so happy about this?"

"I'm afraid that's my fault," she suddenly heard from the door. She turned rapidly and there stood Tizzy.

"What?" Minerva glared at her daughter who had somehow slipped into the office right after her. She had closed the door with her wand.

"I told Severus what you told me," she said quietly. "To be firm and to threaten them but not seem like you don't mean that threat."

Minerva shook her head but yes, it did make sense. Throwing out a student in the first ever period he taught was almost brilliant. It had probably become public knowledge by the third period. And students would be very careful. "Did it work?"

"Yes, it did," he said evenly.

She shook her head again.

"Did you throw someone out?" Tizzy asked, grinning and at his smirking nod, she laughed. "Really? What did the poor lad do?"

"He laughed," he explained seriously. "While I was explaining my rules."

"That is rather harsh," Minerva remarked.

"Yes, but it's brilliant, Mum," Tizzy laughed. "He can take him back in a week or so and tell him that if he sets one more toe out of line, he will be out forever and it's just the goodness of his heart that made him take him back."

"Something like this was my plan, actually," he interjected dryly.

"That's incredible," Minerva said, still shaking her head. But well, she had to admire that he, being so young, had made his mark. And students would respect him after this without a doubt. He wouldn't have to worry about students being disrespectful towards him.

"What are you doing here? Is my office now the new meeting place of the female Dumbledores?" Severus said suddenly, sneeringly.

"Oh, no, I have actually a message," Tizzy said, turning serious.

"What is it? Who is it for?" Minerva asked.

"Well, since I came here, I thought this would be obvious," Tizzy remarked dryly. "But I suppose you should hear it as well. This Swedish bloke came to the Infirmary and told Poppy and me that Alb said that there might be a big thing happening tonight."

Severus paled, clutched his arm probably subconsciously, and stared at her and Minerva wasn't probably faring much better. She had expected this but had hoped that it would remain quiet for a while.

"Don't you get informed beforehand?" she found herself asking.

"Not necessarily," he replied voicelessly. "Sometimes, he has it all planned out and we are sent to improvise. Keeping us on our toes." She saw him paling further and saw that he had said more than he wanted to and next to her, she heard Tizzy gasp, and as she looked at her, she saw her daughter looking at Severus in worry.

"Be careful, and take the portkey, Poppy says" she whispered, then darted from the room again.

"Yes, Severus, do be careful," Minerva said after a moment. "And make sure you come back safe if there is anything."

He nodded, then turned back to his parchment, his hand still on his left arm and he reminded her so much now of her former student. Always bent over something to read. Always hidden by that curtain of hair.

"Severus, take care of yourself. And," she paused, "well done with the student. But he will have to be able to return. And he needs to being able to keep up with his classmates."

He looked up for a moment. "I will get you my syllabus. And look out for Dolohov and Bellatrix. They're insane."

_**xx**_

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**I sometimes feel like I'm doing a striptease here and don't get one of those dollars stuck into whatever clothes I am wearing. Of course this is about reviewing. I understand perfectly that it can be tedious to review and that sometimes you just won't feel like it but imagine doing that striptease and not being paid for it. This story, naturally, is the striptease (every chapter a bit of clothing) and the reviews are my dollars. Please review. It rewards me more than anything else in the world. **_

_**And pardon that wacky metaphor ;)**_


	24. Chapter 24

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**I apologise in advance. I had difficulties writing this chapter. **_

_**xx**_

He stood in a disillusioned row of other black-cloaked figures. Tizzy had been right. Oddly enough. He had called them to the middle of a small town in Northern England. It was a Muggle town – but there was, he knew, a Wizarding family living there as well. Well, half Wizarding, really. And one that at least the twitching witch a few Wizards down his right had personal connections to.

Andromeda Black – marrying a Muggleborn Wizard was apparently the target of this attack. He knew she lived there. With her family. A daughter that did not yet attend Hogwarts and her husband – Something Tonks.

The Dark Lord said they were there. And that they specifically were meant to be killed. Punished, he had called it, but he had summoned a lot of them, around 45, he estimated, and apparently wanted to wreck this entire town. The instructions had been very clear on that. He cleared his mind, ignored the wildly bouncing witch dancing out of line, ignored the thought that wanted to be thought – how could someone be so happy that the own sister was about to be killed? That this person was looking forward to it with a gleeful disposition.

All thoughts pushed back. Well, most of them. He didn't want to be caught thinking the wrong things but he did not want to hurt anyone either. At least not severely. And much less, he wanted to kill someone. No, he would have to be careful. Would have to seem to have fun doing this, would have to seem enjoying hexing those that came in their way, would have to seem wanting to do this – and at the same time, he did not want to hurt, he did not want to kill.

A moment later, they stepped out of their disillusionment, all at once, on the command of the Dark Lord and began striding, in groups, through the streets, Bellatrix, as always, rather hopping and bouncing than walking. He found himself in a group with her – and Malfoy – and three others he did not know immediately and they walked, another group behind them, another on the other side of the street.

"Lookee!" Bellatrix Black squealed in glee and he followed her mad, glittering gaze, and had a hard time, keeping his shocked thoughts behind the shields he had erected. Three women, one younger than himself, the two others a bit older than himself giggled on the street – having clearly fun – and a boy, a child, maybe 4 or 5 in their middle, squealing and bouncing himself, yet seeming so much more sane than Bella. It took those four woman and the boy a moment to notice them. And that moment was clearly too long for one of them, dark curls, and rather pretty, one of the older ones – and she was hit by the light flashing out of Bellatrix's wand, and fell on the ground, screaming in agony. The boy screamed loudly, and the two women joined in, and tried to run. All three of them tried to run but someone, Malfoy, he suspected, held them back.

"Oh fun fun fun," Bellatrix sing-sang and skipped towards them.

"She's playing with her prey again," Malfoy next to him, his wand indeed raised, remarked amusedly and Severus did not know what to think, did not know what to do. He couldn't obviously save them, put them somewhere they couldn't be harmed, but at least the boy – the little boy – should be.

But how? He couldn't somehow cast a shield over him. That would be seen. The portkey around his neck that he had been given in case of emergency could not be used on him either. He carefully filed through his brain, behind all layers of shields and could come up with nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And suddenly, his eyes were pulled upwards by another flash of light, white this time, rushing past him and the other older girl, about 25 or so, fell screaming on the ground as well, writhing next to her friend. He had to act fast, had to get the younger woman out – and the boy. But he didn't know how. He had no idea.

"You bastard!" Bellatrix suddenly rushed around, and anger dancing in her eyes, she stormed past him and pushed her wand into the neck of the Death Eater that had cursed the second woman. "They're mine!"

"Bella, Bella, Bella," the Dark Lord came up behind him, "we're here for a reason."

Bellatrix Black's eyes softened and she bowed her head, and instantly, the Death Eater that had interfered with her fun, was hit by a green light and he only heard a muttered Avada Kedavra.

Now, if there wasn't a miracle, the boy and the younger women were lost. There was nothing, absolutely nothing he could do while the Dark Lord stood there and watched. It was horrid to watch, horrid to feel so helpless. He wanted to send all four of them away. Wanted to see them save.

Bellatrix was clearly still angry now – and a green light felled the younger woman and it was only the boy that was unharmed. Cowering behind his – mother? – writhing on the floor.

He had to do something – but suddenly, there were pops behind them and he breathed. If those were Aurors, or anyone, really, the boy could be saved. He could send all of them away somehow. Could cast a shield. And the way he saw it, only the younger woman was dead. He could save the rest.

"Tom Riddle," he heard the voice of the old man shout angrily behind him and he didn't hesitate a moment before he cast a glimmering shield, and only then turned around. There were about 30 people – people he knew and in the back of his head, he was glad that he was wearing his mask. Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, and behind them, those that made his own blood boil – and those that made him want to turn into a Bellatrix-Black-kind-of-person himself.

Cold rage swept through him and without hesitation, he raised his wand – and joined in the other hexes that were flying around him. He hadn't quite noticed until now that they were in a full blown battle. That the old man and the Dark Lord were locked in a duel and that Professor McGonagall duelled Bellatrix, all the others were hexing wildly – and he had to join. As much as he wanted to have his revenge on Potter, on Black, on Pettigrew, and on Lupin (who was not there – but then again it had been the full moon only two days prior), he could not speak those two words that emitted the green light from his wand. He could not. But he could hurt.

"Sectumsempra," he hissed fiercely and a moment later, there was blood seeping out Potter's wand arm and he heard Sirius shouting something and himself magically wrapping something around the arm. That you would have to give Potter – he fought.

"Sectumsempra," he hissed again – and the same happened to Black. It was too easy. And they should know his spell. And they deserved so much more. He stepped forward – and slashed more. The wand arms, the other arms, always alternately, not sparing Pettigrew either. All three of them and the rage was unbearable, it was white and cold and hot and burning and icy. It was all of those.

"Snivellus!" he heard Potter shout – and it just dawned on him that he had made the mistake of being discovered. But the name only, this name, it made the rage so much worse. Those men had tortured him – and they deserved to be tortured back. They had stolen the most precious thing from him. It was all their fault and he stormed forwards, ready to kill.

xx

That stupid boy. She was locked in a duel with that insane girl Bellatrix but she heard James Potter shout Snivellus and it was bad for Severus. It was bad that he was discovered. How would they explain his presence at Hogwarts, his continued presence at Hogwarts when everyone knew now that he was officially a Death Eater? Albus did not want them to know Severus was a spy. Stupid boy had to use that spell. Had to use his own. Oh she would have to have a word with him.

"Crucio," Bellatrix shouted in that horrid voice of hers and Minerva was just quick enough to step aside and cast a shield and knew she had to focus on this duel. Bellatrix was getting quicker, getting better.

"Is that all you can do?" Minerva shouted back and fired her own hex. "Incarcerous."

"Oh please, Minerva," she dodged the spell but Minerva had suspected that – and shot another one, a painful, very painful migraine hex that would leave her being blinded, right after. Bellatrix screamed and she had her chance to stun her. She wore a grim expression on her face, and turned quick enough to see Potter, Black and Pettigrew closing in on Severus, and Severus, slashing them, or trying to slash them wildly.

She groaned to herself. They could not lose Severus. And Albus and her were supposed to look out for him but Albus was still duelling him – and she was in that moment attacked by a masked Death Eater. She fought and had him down, lying next to Bellatrix, within a minute or two but by then, somehow, Potter and Black had disappeared and she only saw Pettigrew scrambling away from Severus before he too, seemed to apparate away. Andromeda Tonks, the reason they were all there, stood next to her and she turned her head, dodging and shielding herself from hexes.

"Where have they gone?"

"Portkeyed away," Andromeda replied, quite out of breath. "Directly to St Mungo's, I suppose."

"Badly hurt?"

"I don't know."

She nodded, then watched, in astonishment, when first the Dark Lord vanished, then someone grab Bellatrix and apparating away as well. There were only a few Death Eaters left – amongst them Severus, duelling now with a relatively new, inexperienced Auror named Louis Lutz – he held his own but Severus was clearly better – and because of that, the Auror seemed to become desperate.

"Avada Kedavra," he roared determinedly but Severus was better, quicker, faster, and he stepped aside, the green light only hitting the asphalt left to his feet. She thought this was it. That he, like the rest of the Death Eaters except one or two still duelling, would apparate away but he didn't. She couldn't see behind the mask, and his posture was so normal. And the Auror seemed determined as well and send hex after hex before he noticed that he could not get through Severus's shield or missed.

She still looked, despite that fact that plenty on their side had left already, but she had make sure that he was fine before she left, and nearly missed how Louis Lutz seemed to use knowledge he had learned in Auror School and with amazing velocity, sent a huge brick towards Severus.

Minerva had no idea what he wanted to achieve but everything, though it happened quickly, happened just the way she had expected it to happen. The Auror was no match to Severus and the brick was sent back – hit Louis Lutz in the head and well, the speed, the weight, it did what the was expected of it. The head of Auror Louis Lutz had not the shape a head should have any more and the brick seemed half stuck in his forehead.

Andromeda Tonks stepped forward and before Minerva could do something, she had cast a spell and Severus, straight away, tumbled to the ground as well.

"No, Andromeda," Albus pulled her away, shook his head and when she next looked around herself, it was only her, Albus and Severus left. She pushed a sweaty streak of hair from her face while Albus waved his wand around and nodded solemnly.

"Bring him to the Infirmary," he whispered. "But use the portkey around his neck. It will bring you straight to there."

"Is nobody around? If someone sees..."

He shook his head. "No, but you should hurry. The Aurors and other Ministry people will be here in a moment."

She nodded, held her aching thigh (someone had hit her with something there) and pulled the chain with the ring pull from underneath his clothes and with a last nod at Albus, was spun away.

xx

It was the most disgusting thing he had ever seen in his life. And he had done it. It was his fault that this bloke, not much older than himself, now had a brick stuck in his head. He barely noticed he was hit with something in his stomach before he fell to the ground, blackness closing in on him. The picture of the splattered, destroyed, formerly human head very prominent in his head, not possible to push it behind the shields. Nothing. Just the reddish brick that he had sent back with too much speed, too much power, too much strength.

He had never killed another person. He had never done it. Had not ever wanted to do it. Well, apart from Black and Potter and Pettigrew and Lupin. The blackness was falling over him like a veil and he let his eyes drop close, and the darkness pushed the image of the brick in the forehead far away.

xx

Tizzy really wasn't squeamish. But those people, they bled a lot. She remembered that sleazy fellow that had made a pass at her as Sirius Black. He was bleeding from the arms and feet and an area that was probably best described as his bathing suit area. And his friend, that bloke with a wife who was so against Severus had the exact same injuries. Poppy though seemed even less squeamish and she had no trouble at all to make them open their trousers and pull down the rest of their clothes but she couldn't do that. She couldn't do that at all. Well, she wouldn't mind if Severus...no. Better not go there. Holding back. Holding back.

There were more people coming in, some with spell-damage that Poppy immediately sent through her floo to St Mungo's, some she put into bed, some she told to get to the Great Hall immediately and Tizzy felt a bit helpless. There wasn't much she could do apart from assisting Poppy – but both of them exchanged a worried glance when she heard a whooshing sound in Poppy's office.

"Go look," she whispered. "And get me when it's bad."

Tizzy nodded, gathered the skirts in her hands and rushed off – towards the office. All kinds of images flashed through her head, Severus broken and bleeding, half-dead, or completely dead, or maybe just his body. His head severed by the same spell that had almost severed the two blokes' privates. She tried to breathe evenly but it didn't work any better when she saw Mum, putting Severus on the cot that Poppy sometimes (or always, the way she saw it in the mornings), slept on. His eyes were open but she could only see the white and she couldn't help rushing to his side, and since the cot was low, she sunk on her knees, and bent over him.

"Mum?" she asked, not truly surprised at the panic in her voice.

"He will be fine," she replied, "But stay with him and I'll get Poppy."

Tizzy felt herself nod and her breathing rapid, she bent over further, watching his pale face and slowly, because she wasn't thinking, because she was worried, she brought her hand up to his face and with her fingertips touched his cheeks tentatively. "Severus?" she asked softly. "Can you hear me? Just blink or nod or anything when you can, please?"

Her other hand, the one that wasn't stroking his cheek, grasped his hand and held it in hers. "Or squeeze my hand. Anything. Please."

His eyes closed a moment later, and she felt a gentle squeeze on her hand.

"Are you hurt? Does anything hurt?" she asked, still kneeling by his side. She watched his face, but nothing moved, apart from his adam's apple bobbing from swallowing convulsively. "What's wrong? Severus?" she asked, seeing him breaking in some way. "What happened?"

He seemed to swallow again and his eyes opened wide. "I killed a man," he whispered voicelessly and she had no time to move away before he bent over, his head somehow hanging over the edge of the bed. She had not time to move away before he began to vomit violently.

_**xx**_

_**Thank you for reading and please don't forget to review (or I might use the wacky metaphor again). **_


	25. Chapter 25

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

As fast as she could, she moved herself away slightly and conjured a bowl (she couldn't think of anything better), putting it where he skirts had been. She always kept a hand on his back, stroking gently but when another spasm hit him, and his hair was falling forward, she scooted closer, and after scourgifying her skirt and robes, she put her wand away and gathered his hair together, holding it at the back of his head with one hand, and let the other still stroke his back.

"There, there," she whispered soothingly even though – she wasn't sure how she felt, how she should react to him telling her that. Had said that he had killed someone. And technically, she knew they would have to. This was a war, and there were casualties. She knew that.

But – she had never suspected to know someone who killed another human being. And it made her nauseous too, to think that maybe – Mum...

"It's alright," she whispered, as much to herself as she did to him. "It's alright." He was violently sick and she was glad she had conjured the bowl. Tizzy leant against him slightly, closing her eyes, stroking his back, holding his hair and wished she could help. The smell, the thoughts that those people she loved most in the world, her own family could just have killed as well – it made her taste bile in her mouth.

xx

Minerva looked rather drawn and tired and Poppy, as soon as she had wiped her bloody hands (she had to talk to Severus about that spell. It was draining to fix it) on her uniform, she rushed over to her.

"Where is he? What happened?"

Minerva smiled tiredly. "He's in there. Andromeda hit him with something and he collapsed."

Poppy sighed and taking a deep breath, she passed her friend, walking towards her office. Minerva, of course, followed her instantly and she took a moment, just a quick one, really, to look back. "You?"

"I'm fine. Something hit me in the thigh but it's not bleeding. Might only be a bruise," she replied offhandedly.

"I will check that later. You won't just disappear," the mediwitch replied sternly and even managed a little smile when the other woman nodded with a dramatic sigh. "None of that," she huffed good naturedly and looked in her office.

School children, as a rule, did get sick rather often. They did vomit a lot, and she was used to it, really. But Severus half-sitting, half-lying there, his hair held back by Tizzy, who was sort of sitting close to him though she was kneeling on the floor, this was more than mere vomiting. He was heaving his guts up. It smelled like bile and even though Minerva ran into her back, she remained on the spot, taking a moment to compose herself.

"What was he hit with?" she asked quietly.

"I think Stinging but Andromeda didn't say. Might have been something worse," Minerva replied, obviously staring at her daughter being so obviously concerned and distressed about that man there.

"Andromeda? Tonks? Why was she there?" Poppy asked, whispering, unable to disturb the scene before her with Tizzy now scrambling up on the cot and pressing temple against his shoulder.

"It was because of them," Minerva whispered back, just as transfixed as she was by her daughter.

"Oh no. Did they? They have a little girl, don't they?"

Minerva nodded. "No, apparently some daft Death Eater was overheard by her husband. I know that he-who-must-not-be-named is quite smart but most of his minions are dimwitted idiots. Except a few."

"Overheard? No trap?" Poppy asked suspiciously.

"Absolutely none. It was just as expected."

"Any deaths?" she asked softly, afraid of the answer. She didn't want to hear about more people she knew dying, more terribly wounded and her not being able to help any more. And yet, Poppy knew that she had to.

"An Auror," Minerva said sadly and nodded her head towards Severus, heaving bile over a bowl she had not noticed before. "He was attacked by a brick and sent it back. It wasn't pretty."

"Oh you mean...Severus killed...?" Poppy asked, clapping her hand in front of her mouth. "And that is why..."

Minerva nodded. "It wasn't his fault at all. Bloody idiot didn't dodge a brick that came flying towards his face."

Poppy sighed, raised her wand and a second later, a vial full of stomach-soother came flying to her. "Are you well enough to see that Black and Potter don't move for the next ten minutes or so? Without using magic?"

Minerva rolled her eyes and raised a mocking eyebrow. "Sometimes," she said, "I think you underestimate me. Or overestimate those boys."

This put a smile back on her face – if for a moment only. Minerva would have her hands full after all. Those two could hardly be kept still but the injuries were severe and – as soon as he was alright again – she would have to talk to Severus. Both of them knew it had been him that had injured them. And this did not help his standing at this school and as a unknown spy. It did not help at all.

She swallowed, her eyes on the pair, and went fully into her office.

"Severus," she said gently. "Tizzy help me with that, will you?" she asked, handing her the vial.

"What were you hit with?" she asked then, watching in fascination and a sort of admiration how Tizzy slowly helped him sit up, one hand on his back, the other on his shoulder and Poppy wasn't sure whether it was weakness, or maybe just the wish for human contact of any sort, but Severus did not struggle one bit when Tizzy made him lean against her shoulder and while she kept one arm around him, she uncorked the vial with the other.

"Drink that, it will help," she said gently and pressed the cool glass against Severus's lips and tipped it forward. He swallowed – seemed to have difficulties with it and he didn't sit up straight, even after the gasping spasms that shook his body stopped slowly. It might have something to do, Poppy thought, with Tisiphone's slow, stroking hand on his back. She had absolutely no doubt that this girl would make a great healer.

And Severus did not seem to mind resting his head on her shoulder. He made no move to remove it.

"Do you know what you were hit with?" Poppy asked again. She couldn't risk this heaving to have mere physical causes.

He slowly lifted his head and with empty, tired, blood-shot eyes, he looked at her and shook his head. "I don't know," he said rawly.

"I will have to check. Can you lie down again? Tisiphone, help him," she instructed and for the first time, noticed Tizzy's worried glance and a deep line etched between her young eyebrows. "It'll be fine," she told her.

"Of course it will be," she nodded, probably reassuring herself but really – despite her obvious, more or less, feelings for this bloke, whether it was a crush, or falling in love, or just deep friendly feelings, she remained rather professional, she calmed him, she soothed him and she was by his side, and had very effectively made him take a potion (though she wasn't sure how much of this voluntary taking of potion was the shock).

Slowly, Severus Snape lay down on his back and Tizzy moved away slightly, still standing by the cot, and her hand, calming, on his shoulder. Poppy ran her wand over the man – and came up with little. It was a Stinging Hex, and a Stomach-Punching Hex. Nothing serious. And what she had suspected – that the throwing up was had no physical causes – was confirmed.

And really, he was a boy. He was twenty-one. And had just killed for the first time. She remembered Minerva after her first accidental killing. Had not left her quarters for a week and had been off worse than him. Despite the fact that Aberforth had been with her, and had consoled her and made sure that she was not to blame. She didn't even want to know what would happen to the blokes out there, Black, Potter, when they had to – for the first time. It was horrible. And they would not deal better with it. They were so young, all of them.

"You're fine," she explained. "If you want a potion to sleep or to reduce pain, let me know."

He shook his head and, against Tisiphone's hand on his shoulder, pushed himself up, swallowed, a bit of colour (a tiny bit, mind) returning to his cheeks. "I'm fine," he said and it was as if a switch was pulled. His eyes, the eyes that had been so empty and so sad, turned cold.

"Where are you going?" Tizzy asked, her voice concerned – yet stern. "You can't go anywhere."

"I can," he said with a horrible cold edge and pushed himself up.

"You can go if you come back up here for a check-up tomorrow. If you don't, I will come and find you," Poppy made a quick decision, letting him go. He was, had always been, someone to deal with everything on his own. And she would made sure an elf checked on him – and she would make sure Eileen knew about it. She put her hand on the girls shoulder and nodded barely perceptively.

Both women watched when he wanted to leave the office and Tizzy was a bit quicker than herself.

"You can't leave through there," she said urgently. "They will see you."

He looked at her puzzled, then Poppy waved her wand. "Go through there," she said gently. "And remember tomorrow."

He nodded – and was off.

xx

"I will not hesitate to stick you to the beds," Minerva said sternly and stood between her former two students, two mischief-makers.

"But we're fine," Black argued.

"I have orders," she replied. "And you know not to cross me nor Madam Pomfrey."

"I'd like to go home, Professor McGonagall. Lily's expecting me," Potter tried to wheedle his way out.

"She can wait another ten minutes." Minerva pointed her wand threateningly on first the one, then the other.

"Is Snivellus in the castle?" Black asked suddenly, his eyes cold and glaring.

"Who?" she asked, knowing that she would have to play along – to a certain extent.

"The bastard who did this to us. The greasy git who thinks he can play teacher here and probably kill a student every day," he drew a deep breath, "You know it was him and Dumbledore has to know he was there. How can he let him teach?"

"What _Headmaster_ Dumbledore does or does not do is only his concern," she replied coldly. "I do not know why he hired Professor Snape but he did. And since I trust Headmaster Dumbledore, I trust his judgement."

Well – she did trust him. And she knew why Severus was there. But she did not know how he wanted to explain his presence to those opposed to him – how he could. Especially since Severus had been so stupid as to reveal himself. This would pose another difficulty. Albus's to deal with. She couldn't think. She was tired.

She only wanted a quick word with Albus, then make sure Aberforth was home and just snuggle with him, wanted to forget about the poor Auror and the image of the brick lodged in his face.

"Have they been good?" she felt Poppy's hand on her shoulder – and as she turned, she saw her daughter, tired and concerned looking behind the mediwitch.

"As good as can be expected," she replied with the last bit of sarcasm she could muster and seeing that Poppy took her place, made sure those boys stayed where they were, she walked to her daughter, her girl, being so brave, and with a little smile on her face, wrapped her in her arms, ignoring the comments of Potter and Black.

"He left, Mum," Tizzy whispered in her ear. "But he was so distressed about..."

"I know, wee angel," she whispered back. "He needs a bit of time to digest this. But I'm so proud of you."

"You are?" she pulled back and stared in wonder.

"Of course I am," Minerva chuckled softly and pulled her back tighter into her arms. "You did good today. Very brave, very calm."

"I try," she replied, her voice thick. No, her girl was not used to praise like this. At least not lately. And her girl was even less used to the old term of endearment. Hadn't been a wee angel for at least ten years.

"I know you do. And you're doing a good job. Now, will you be a good daughter and if Poppy doesn't need you any more, will you run home and see that your father's there, please?"

Tizzy nodded and with a quick explanation and a stern look at both Potter and Black (and where was Pettigrew anyway?) she left the hospital wing. Just a quick talk to Albus, let him explain what exactly had happened and then home. Leave the exhaustion behind – or maybe giving in to the exhaustion. Bellatrix really was a piece of work. Duelling her was something she did not want to do every day. Certifiably insane and ready to even kill her own sister cold-bloodedly. That woman had to be locked away good and proper. Or probably have her soul sucked out – or should be killed herself. Anything, really. But someone had to get her away. Amongst all the Death Eaters – even including he-who-must-not-be-named – she was the weirdest, probably the most dangerous because she was so unpredictable. And nobody ever knew what idea she had next.

Still, she would have to talk to Albus about maybe a counter-attack, be offensive for once and not just waiting for them to attack. And putting Bellatrix at least away. That woman had tried to kill her, for heaven's sake.

"Let me up, Bob, will you?" she asked the Gargoyle guarding her brother-in-law's office and he merely grumbled, but stepped aside. "Thank you."

"Stop calling me by that infernal name though," the Gargoyle huffed and she huffed back. She was not in the mood to argue with a stone, really.

Minerva McGonagall pushed the door to the Headmaster's office open and upon seeing what she saw – she could only gasp in shock.

_**xx**_

_**Thank you for reading and don't forget to review, please!**_


	26. Chapter 26

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**My eternal gratitude to Alabaster Princess and itat88. For being friends and help in those times. **_

_**xx**_

She had sent the girl to her parents and had sent all of those back home that were fine. There were only two more now in the Hospital Wing, both sleeping. Frank Longbottom who had caught a Leg-Breaking Curse and couldn't quite walk yet, and Alastor Moody. That one would be difficult to handle once he was awake. One of the best Aurors and there was nothing she had been able to do to save his leg. Maybe she should have sent him to St Mungo's and face his wrath later. He hated St Mungo's and never went if he could help it. But the leg had not been found, not even by anyone later, and though she had tried to regrow it, his body had not responded to the potions. It was, probably, because he was missing half his stomach. Honestly, the wounds this man had.

And he would be horrible, understandably, seeing that no treatment had worked for the severed leg. She would have to check whether she had a Calming Potion nearby.

But first things first. She cleaned the Infirmary, sanitised it. And she knew she would have one more thing to do. It was her job, after all. Not Minerva's, not Tizzy's. Hers.

She dragged herself up, fixed the hair in her bun and as she walked through the silent castle, her thoughts returned to her apprentice. She had worked hard, had not flinched when she had been asked to hold down Moody. And the way she had handled Severus Snape had been exceptional. She would begin teaching her more advanced healing spells soon. And the finer points of being a healer. Would have to prepare her for doing things like the one she was about to do now. But the best thing about Tizzy was, that she wasn't really appalled by anything. She was not squeamish and still had her compassion. Poppy knew she would have to keep it – without getting too lost in it. And she wasn't even sure she had managed that.

She was tired. Truly tired. Tired to the point of not being able to sleep and she knew she would spent it on the cot in her office (Tizzy had cleaned it after Severus had been there – and she was quite good at her cleaning and sanitation spells already) or maybe watching over the two men. She knew Frank Longbottom had a young son and a wife at home. Both of whom had not truly dared to leave their house – for reasons unknown to her. And Alastor had his work – or had had, really. She truly wasn't looking forward to telling him about his leg. Would have to hide his wand and all throwable objects.

Her legs ached, her head ached and she had truly no longing to see her either. But she had a right to know and she would probably have to have to choose what she wanted to do. And she could only do that when she knew.

Poppy remembered Eileen Prince back when she had been a student. Poppy, a fourth year by the time Eileen had entered the school had been playing Gobstones as well. There wasn't, as far as she knew, a single person, not even in her team, that Eileen had been friends with. She had always been alone. And in that, she had been like Severus until he had befriended those future Death Eaters. And even that, she wasn't sure, whether that had been a real friendship.

And coming to think of it, she had not seen Eileen and Severus together at the castle. Not at all. But since both of them seemed to be the kind of people that kept to themselves, she wasn't sure. Maybe Severus had not gone to his quarters at all, maybe, he had gone to her.

Still – it was quite late and it was probably not the best idea to see Eileen Prince now, but she had to know. And Poppy wanted to get this over with. She had other things to do as well. Moody, and Longbottom and Tizzy. And Severus. Not to forget about Severus. Would have to talk to him as well. And explain. And make sure he knew it hadn't been his fault that the Auror had died. More than enough programme for one day with little sleep the night before.

Poppy knew she was stretching herself thin – but there was nothing to be done about it. She was the only mediwitch in the Order. She was the only one Albus truly trusted. And she knew she had to work hard.

But it wasn't wrong to hope that this war would soon be over, was it?

She took a deep breath before she knocked on the wooden door.

xx

She wanted to clean her eyeballs with a toothbrush. Or maybe pluck them out.

"Ach," she shrieked the way she had never shrieked before at the sight that met her.

Hands in grey hair, arms tightly around bodies, lips on lips. Passionately. Close. Kissing. Albus. Kissing. Snogging. That Swedish bloke. Passionately. And only her shriek made them jump apart but by then, she had already covered her eyes.

"Minerva," Albus said, clearing his throat and she dared, slowly, to let her hands fall from her face. She wasn't sure whether she should really be embarrassed or angry. Or just disturbed at that sight. She was a tolerant woman. She didn't mind anyone kissing anyone of the same sex. But moments after battling he-who-must-not-be-named, he had probably left immediately to make out (and what an expression to use in connection to her brother in law) with the strange Swedish man, that was – disturbing her. Just disturbing.

But apparently, she was not alone in this. The stranger had blushed as well – and as much as she wanted to focus on that blush – or better yet, the portraits on the walls, she couldn't help but notice that Albus had taken the man's hand briefly and had squeezed it.

"I will come back in the morning," she said strangely.

"No, Minerva, what brought you up here?" Albus asked, his eyes infernally twinkling again and no. Oh no, she could not let this go like that. What did he think snogging a strange bloke there and then only going back to usual business?

"What?" she exclaimed. "What made you do this?" she made a vague gesture with her hand – indicating this – this – this – kissing.

"We're in lo...," the Swedish lad began but was interrupted by Albus – but this couldn't keep her jaw from dropping.

"Lasse and I are an item," he explained. "And I.."

"What?" Minerva shook her head and briefly looked at the younger of the two men, "No offence, but you don't know him. What if he is merely here for...you-know-who and is only..."

"He is not," Albus said sharply, immediately.

"I am not," the other man said at almost the same time.

"Then what is this? Came here for a snog with your new boyfriend, or old boyfriend, because I don't know, I don't know what you do any more, and who with. Not that I want to, but you came here immediately and do – this – while all those young men and women are down in the Infirmary or in St Mungo's battling for their lives and health? Collecting the prize for duelling you-know-who? Ach pish."

Albus's eyes turned cold, quite suddenly, and never had those cold blue eyes been directed at her. She had seen them directed at her husband. At other people, never had her. "I am worried. And who do you turn to for comfort?"

Minerva closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "This is a comfort thing? You're worried and you turn to him for comfort?"

Both men stayed silent – but once more, hands were clasped and entwined and she couldn't help the grimace that appeared on her face.

"Don't expect me to swallow that you're in love just like that," she said, still disbelieving, and without saying any of the things she had wanted to say before she had seen those two, she left the office, her mind whirring.

xx

She shot up from the chair she had nodded off while reading when she heard a knock on the door. She was only in her underrobes, white and worn, but this could be Severus. Maybe he had changed his mind and did want to talk to her. Maybe he was hurt and was coming to her for comfort and healing. Maybe it was Severus and she wanted to see him. She didn't care about her clothes or her open, flowing hair and in a flash, she was by the door and flung it open.

But it wasn't Severus. It was – no. Pomfrey. Fear, cold and clammy, crept up on her and she found herself clutching her neck. The old man had sent the mediwitch down here to tell her that Severus – – – had not returned. Was lying – – dead – – somewhere.

"Pomfrey," she said, weakly.

"Eileen," she said, and smiled a little.

"What? What happened to him?" she snapped.

"Oh," Pomfrey said and shook her head quickly. "He is fine. More or less."

"More or less, more or less? What does it mean?" she asked again and knew she sounded slightly hysterical.

"May I come in and I'll explain?"

Eileen pushed the door open impatiently and gestured at a chair. "Sit. Explain," she commanded.

"Severus is fine, Eileen," Pomfrey said as she sat down and yes, she was breathing a sigh of relief. But it was late – or early – and she would have gone to bed, hadn't she nodded off.

"Why are you here then?"

"He is fine physically, I should say," she said gently, "but I'm not sure what he feels like inside."

"What do you mean?"

"He killed tonight," she replied softly. "And was at first very distressed about it. Then he only took off. I thought you should know. I don't know what your relationship is like. But I think he might need to talk about this."

Eileen gasped. She wasn't really sure what to make of it. But her boy would of course be distressed. He was a child. He was young. And to have killed someone? Of course he would be distressed. And the mediwitch was right. Of course he needed someone.

"Yes. Of course," she said despite herself and got ready to get up from the chair she had just moments ago settled on.

"There was a battle between us and them. And it was more an accident than anything else, I'm told. He merely defended himself and the Auror was inexperienced," she explained but Eileen only listened with half an ear. She would have to go to him. Now was when it counted. Now was the moment when he needed someone. Now she could prove that she had meant every word. Now as when she wouldn't let herself be pushed away.

"Thank you," Eileen said quietly and got up.

"I thought you ought to know," she smiled. "And if I can help in any way, please just let me know. I'm always up in the Infirmary and I'll be glad to lend my support."

Eileen Prince looked up in surprise. She had been at Hogwarts for a while now. Had never talked to Poppy Pomfrey except a greeting in passing. And now she was offering her support? Why?

"I know that Severus is, can be, difficult. Since he's been here, now, and back when he was a student, he refuses, and refused, help mostly. But if I can do anything for him, if you know of anything, just tell me. He is in the most difficult position and I believe that with his help, we can win this war. But I don't want him breaking under that kind of pressure," she looked pensively for a moment, then got up. "And you too, please," she added after a moment's silence and wishing her good night, she left the room again.

It took Eileen a second to gather her wits – but slipping her robes on, she knew that she needed to get to her son and soon. He would not be able to send her away this time.

She left her room and looked to the left and to the right, then rushed down to where she knew his rooms were. But of course the door wasn't there. There was absolutely no door.

"Baron?" she called softly and instantly, the ghosts appeared next to her.

"I heard of what happened, Eileen Prince," he smiled his pearly transparent smile and a few chains rattled when he waved his hand towards the walls. "He needs his mother now," he added and a moment later, a house elf, tiny thing, popped up next to her, grinning.

"I's to take you in Master Snape Sir's rooms?" the elf asked and bowed.

Eileen nodded puzzled. "I didn't know you could do that," she whispered but before the Baron could reply, she was taken away, spinning, a stronger pull than usually around her navel. The darkness surrounding her lasted only an instant and when she opened her eyes – not having noticed she had closed them in the first place – she stood in Severus's living room, faced with son, curled up on an upholstered chair, staring into thin air, straight ahead.

xx

Tizzy fell, groaning on the couch. The man, Alastor Moody, with the severed leg had cost her nerves. He had come in, only a moment before she had wanted to leave. Had apparently, or so he explained in clipped tones that implied he was hurt, followed some of the Death Eaters but had only encountered one – Abraxas Malfoy – he explained – and that wizard had cut his leg off.

And despite all of Poppy's massive and strenuous efforts, nothing had helped. And as soon as she closed her eyes, the images in her head began spinning. Severus throwing up and leaning against her, letting her soothe him, and Alastor Moody with one leg only, all the other injured, blood everywhere.

She felt an arm around her shoulder and opened her eyes quickly.

"It's okay, m'love, everything's fine," she heard her father say and it almost felt as if he could read her thoughts. Or maybe it was written all over her face, she wasn't sure. But Tizzy, in that moment, doubted that she could be a healer. This was hard. So hard. And she wasn't strong enough. She would have to talk to Poppy. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this job. Or not as well as she had thought.

"Stop thinking," Dad said and turned her around to hug her. "There is no need to doubt yourself. This kind of situation is always difficult, for everyone. There is no need to throw it all away just because you think what you saw is horrible."

"Can you read my mind?" she asked, her face buried into his chest.

"You're my daughter, I have to read your mind," he chuckled. "Don't doubt yourself. I'm sure you were doing perfectly fine."

"She was doing more than perfectly fine," she heard her Mum say suddenly, from the door and it made Tizzy look up. She sounded so tired and confused. And looked so tired and confused.

"What's wrong?" Dad asked and Mum stood there, in front of the couch, before she gestured and then, more or less flopped down between them. Flopped? Mum never flopped.

She sighed, took Dad's hand, then hers, sighed again and shook her head. "It seems," she paused, biting her lip, "that Albus has found himself," she paused again and lifted her hands, and theirs with hers, before she let them fall on her thighs, "a boyfriend."

_**xx**_

_**Thank you for reading and please don't forget to review!**_

_**(And yes, go ahead, give me hell for writing Albus and Lasse! XD)**_


	27. Chapter 27

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

Eileen quietly rushed to her son's side. He was so very pale, his eyes so empty and he seemed so absent. It shocked her, truly shocked her to see him like this. Hesitantly, she brushed her hand over his forehead, brushed his hair from his eyes and he did not even flinch.

"Severus?" she asked softly – and he did not react at all.

Completely shocked, her boy, and it made her very uneasy. It worried her and for a quick moment, she was truly grateful that Pomfrey had told her about this. Leaving him alone in a moment like this would probably be close to murder. Who knew what he was doing in a state like this?

Eileen slowly pulled the wand from her pocket and silently, enlarged the chair he sat on. Not even then did he look up, changed the empty, glassy look of his dark eyes.

"Oh Severus," she whispered and sat down next to him. He didn't react, didn't move a muscle at all and she slowly, hesitantly, carefully, wrapped her arms around his shoulder and pulled him to her. And he still didn't react. His legs were still pulled up but his back against her chest, it looked much more comfortable, with his head against her collarbone and his hair tickling her nose slightly. She held him to her, rocked him gently back and forth and on impulse, just like that, she turned her head, slightly, and kissed his forehead.

"My poor boy," she whispered gently.

xx

He felt something or someone holding him and a voice that sounded oddly familiar whispering his name and talking to him but the only image prominent in his mind was the one he wanted to forget. Brick, blood, head. He had not wanted to direct the brick there. He had not wanted to do this. He could only see the dead girl, the cowering little boy and those two hurt muggle women, pretty and young and the Dark Lord and Bellatrix and the man he had killed. He did not feel anything. He was just empty and at the same time, he was cold and shivering but the thing or maybe person, holding him, stopped it, slightly. But he couldn't feel anything else besides the emptiness and the coldness and he couldn't bring himself to focus his view and to see what it was holding him. Maybe it was just an illusion.

"Here, Severus," the oddly familiar voice said and he did not know, did not want to know, did not care, whom it belonged to, and he felt himself swallowing something warm and a moment later, he felt his eyes close and the image of the brick and the boy and the dead girl and the blood vanished.

xx

Poppy blinked tiredly. Apparently, she had dozed off on her cot, in her uniform. She had been so tired, she remembered and had actually been able to sleep, apparently. But she had been woken by someone screaming, shouting, yelling, thundering her name.

"Pomfrey!" there it was again and she groaned exhaustedly, rubbed her eyes and with a flick of her wand, straightened her uniform. She had put Moody's wand away but she had no idea how he would react. If he even remembered what had happened. Moody was, well, moody. And could be quite unpredictable.

She took a deep breath – wishing she had gotten a bit more sleep to deal with this, and the day she knew was expecting her, and left her office.

"Auror Moody, good morning," she said as pleasantly as she could muster. Which was rather nice. She even smiled a little.

"Pomfrey, my leg hurts," he bellowed and even though Poppy kept her face calm and neutral and rather cheerful, inside, she steeled herself. Toughened herself.

"Which leg, Auror Moody?"

"The left one, woman," he said gruffly. "Fix it, I have a job to do."

"Do you remember what happened last night?" she asked carefully, stepping closer to his bed.

"I was hit by a dark curse. You're the mediwitch, you oughta know."

"Moody, you lost the leg," Longbottom suddenly spoke from the other be and Poppy closed her eyes. She wouldn't have said it so clearly. She would have broken the news gentler – and she tried to grab the white covers that hid his leg – and the stump – from him but he was faster and a moment later, he stared, incredulously, at his limbs. His remaining limb, actually, and his eyes grew wide and horrified.

"My leg," he whispered and Poppy had never heard him like this. This gruff, tough man stared and whispered and with both his hands, touched the stump incredulously. "My leg," he repeated and his voice was so quiet, so raw, so choked.

Longbottom looked a little afraid of this, pretty much, she supposed, like she felt, and she turned her eyes on him.

"You can leave," she said friendly. It was probably better for her to be alone with Moody – and she was happy, very happy, that she had told Tizzy to come in later. Simply because, well, dealing with such patients, such things, was something she would have to learn, but she would gladly postpone that lesson. Not with Moody.

Frank Longbottom almost jumped up from the hospital bed and had left the Infirmary in a flash, leaving her to watch over Alastor Moody, still touching what was left of the leg.

"Alastor," she said softly, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. "There are good replacements these days. And therapy, too. We will have you up and running and chasing dark wizards in no time."

"It hurts," he whispered.

"I know," she replied. "But there are potions that will stop it. It is not the end of our career. You can still..."

"My leg," he only whispered and with closed his, the tough auror let himself fall back on his bed, covering his face with his hands.

xx

Tizzy hadn't slept well. At one point or another, she had even considered going to her parents' bathroom cabinet and taking a potion. But instead, she had just taken a book, a boring book, one of her father's, and had read until her eyes had grown very tired and she had no other choice than to close them. Not that it meant sleep had come. She had instead lain away and had thought and worried and lost herself in her contemplation. She would pull through her healer's training – and seriously, how much worse could it get? So much blood, a leg that could not be put on again, Severus completely shell-shocked and throwing up on her.

She seriously doubted a night could be worse and she had survived it. With little to no sleep, but she had. She was bleary-eyed in the morning, yes, and her thoughts were still returning to the poor people who had been injured and mostly to Severus.

The thing bothering her least was Uncle Alb and that lover of hers. It was nice, she thought, for him to find love, even if it was this late in life, and even though she did not really want to witness them making out. On the contrary. She could deal with hexed-off legs but she could not possible deal with a snogging Uncle. That made her squeamish even thinking about it.

Severus was on her mind. She hoped he had been fine during the night. Maybe she should have run after him, and give him a potion. Just to make him sleep, or sleep better. But then again, she hadn't taken a potion either, so why should he? And he had seemed half way fine, actually. But since Poppy had told her to come in later in the morning, at around eleven, she had said, she had left the rooms with her mother, had breakfast with the students in the Great Hall and when he had not shown up there, she had made her way down to the dungeons. She knew that he would have to be there. It was an advantage, to some extent, to have a mother who was Deputy Headmistress. And had all the teacher's schedules even in their private rooms.

She knew that Severus had NEWT students, and apart from making sure he was fine, she truly wanted to wish him luck. Those students had known him well as a student himself and it would be hard for him. She wanted to be there for him. Wanted to let him know that he had someone in his corner. A friend. Even though, well, she wanted this to be more than friendship. She had never felt this strong urge to be close to someone before. She wanted to spend time with him, get to know him, hold him when he felt bad, wanted to comfort him and be close. Wanted to hear him talk to her and tell her things and just be a help to him. Wanted to tell him things.

And truth be told, she had no idea what drew her to him like this. Apart from the fact that he as good looking, interesting, had this intense gaze and – well, soft lips. Large hands. And very, very beautiful eyes. And whenever he talked, he had something important to say.

She knocked on the door to his classroom, quite out of breath because she had ran down, and when there was no answer, she slowly pushed the handle and found it empty. It was odd to see an empty, unlocked, unwarded classroom but well, he would be there soon and she would just wait.

She rubbed her tired eyes quickly, made sure her hair was as pretty as it had been in the morning and the tiny bit of cleavage just right as she strode to the front of the room and sat down on his chair. It was quite a sight from up there, seeing all the benches and the cauldrons. Quite nice, actually.

"What the..." she heard him from the door that apparently led to his office and she turned on the chair and smiled.

"Good morning, Severus," she said gently. "Are you okay?"

xx

He had woken in his chair. It had been enlarged and he had a blanket over his body. It had been refreshing sleep, without nightmares, without his mind trying to digest the things he had seen. He did not remember much about the night before – he remembered being in the Infirmary and vomiting. He remembered leaning against Tisiphone and letting himself held by her.

He remembered how real, how nice, it had felt when she had stroked his back and had held his hair back. And he remembered wanting not to think that it was nice. Remembered taking off, and remembered falling into a spiral of thoughts. And then there was a blank, really. Someone must have given him Dreamless Sleep, or maybe he had taken it himself, he did not remember. He had possibly taken it himself. That was, after all, why he had it in his quarters.

Or maybe, he had let Tisiphone into his quarters and she had given it to him. And somehow, that thought had not worried him.

It had, after all, been nice, to lean his head against her shoulder. Even though he still wasn't sure why – or, why she was nice to him. He didn't understand it at all. But that girl had kissed him. Had touched him. Last night again. She had not moved from his side at all. She was not repulsed.

And there, just now, in his classroom, just before his first ever NEWTs class, she sat. In his chair. Smiling at him. And in some odd way, in some remote corner of his brain, he was happy to see her there.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently, smiling at him.

Was he? Was he okay? He wasn't sure. The images of the night before had faded slightly and as long as he tried not to think too much about it, he was sure he could get through this day. He would not, probably, get as well through the night. The Dark Lord always called them again after a revel like this. Especially if, like last night, the revel had not gone as expected. But the good thing was – he wouldn't have to hide all his thoughts, all his memories. He could keep the one where he had killed. The Dark Lord would, he imagined, be pleased. And that would maybe, hopefully, lessen the Cruciatus. Even though he as good as expected it. Mission not accomplished. People lost.

But was he okay? He looked into her bright blue eyes and a part of him wanted, truly wanted, to open up to her.

"I don't know," he said quietly.

"It wasn't your fault what happened," she replied almost immediately, just as quietly and a moment later, she was up on her feet and stood in front of him. And – had taken both his hands. "But that's what everyone says, isn't it? Won't make it easier for you, hm?"

He found himself looking into those eyes, compassionate and warm and feeling – and found himself nodding suddenly.

"If you want to talk, you know that I'm here, right? You know that I am here for you and that I want to help you. Be there for you."

She squeezed his hands and he was reminded of the night before. Yes, she had been there. She had held his hands and had sounded so worried about him.

"I want you to be okay," she added in a whisper and looked up at him. "I want to..." she stopped, fixed him with her eyes and shook her head with a smile. He didn't know what she had wanted to say. Had no idea at all but a moment later, he felt her stepping closer, letting go off his hands and her arms sneaking around his waist.

She was hugging him.

Nobody hugged him.

But she was. First she had kissed him, now the girl suddenly had her head on his chest and her arms around him and it felt – nice. It truly did. It was as if there was warmth coming from her. Warmth spreading out, chasing away the coldness he had felt inside and he knew he wasn't acting rationally, or was even thinking when he put his own arms around her as well. When his hands were suddenly on her back and his chin dangerously close to the top of her head.

He couldn't tell how long they stood. He couldn't tell when he had closed his eyes. He couldn't tell when she had began stroking his back and he couldn't tell when his fingers were moving over hers either.

And much less, could he tell why. He did not understand himself. He did not know what made him do this. He did not understand what this warmth was he was feeling and he did not understand why she wasn't repulsed by him or laughed at him, or mocked him.

And she – or he – only pulled away – apart – when there was the noise of approaching students in the hall outside his classroom.

She smiled at him – still (another thing he did not understand) – and suddenly, he felt her lips on his cheek.

"I don't think you need afraid," she said gently, "even those know that you threw out the Gryffindor."

Severus nodded – and felt very, very strange.

_**xx**_

_**Thank you for reading and please don't forget to review.**_

_**A/N: A quick note to Lasse and Albus. The snogging scene last chapter is as far and as explicit as I will go with them. I have absolutely no intention of taking this further. However, Lasse fulfils a function and those of you reading closely, might have already figured it out. I merely took what JK said and made him gay – hence the man. If she had said Alb had a thing for Playboy Bunnies, he would have gotten one of them. There will be no description of any other kind of snogging, or, much less, sex in any way, shape or form. There might be hand-holding in the future, but this is the extent of it. I hope none of you were put off by it. Thank you!**_


	28. Chapter 28

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

Severus stood, stiffly, as the mask was pulled by a great force from his face. He found himself, for a moment, eye to eye with the Dark Lord and struggled, for a split second with the barriers in his mind. He averted his eyes, looked to the ground, at the grass growing there, before he could look deeper and Severus knew he only had a moment, a second, before he would strike.

He wasn't the first, not by a long shot. Lucius Malfoy, apparently the one responsible for the attack lay on the ground, still shivering in pain, still making those noises indicating that he did his best not to howl or to cry out in agony. Next to him, his father, Abraxas, doing a bit better, already struggling to get up, and a few feet away, Bellatrix. Bellatrix Black who looked obscene, really. Her legs, barely hidden by her skirt, were spread slightly, her mouth opened, her eyes closed and she moaned quietly. Woman seemed to enjoy this and Severus had to make a strenuous effort not to gag. The feeling of repulsion was prominent in his mind and he hoped, truly hoped that this was permissible in the Dark Lord's eyes. He was not able to push it back. He was unable to hide his disgust at this open, lewd display.

There were three or four others on the ground but now, now he knew it was his turn. And he was the supposed spy. And had known nothing. This did not bode well. Not at all.

"Severus," the Dark Lord hissed, suddenly, and too soon for Severus, too soon for him to prepare himself, "if you work for the old fool and if he is beginning to trust you, why did you not know of this?"

Severus swallowed, pushed basically all thoughts behind the thick, cream-coloured barriers in his mind, but did not quite meet his eyes. "He did not tell me, my Lord," he whispered hoarsely.

"And you took one of those pitiful, self-proclaimed aurors with you, I hear?"

"Yes, my Lord," he replied, happy, very happy about the Occlumency. He should have used it before. He could have stopped himself from retching. He could have...

"Nevertheless, Severus, I am most displeased with you. What is your use if you cannot even tell me when they know we will be somewhere?"

"I regret not being closer to him, yet," Severus croaked.

"And you should," the Dark Lord thundered. "Crucio!"

Severus fell on the ground, writhing, white, searing, horrible, unbearable pain upon him, coming in waves until there was nothing he could think about but this pain, nothing that existed any more. Just him and the ground that he barely noticed as such but something he could hold on to, something level. There was no room in his mind to hope or to pray or to beg. There was absolutely nothing. Pain – and a loud crack from his arm, suddenly, then blackness enfolding him.

He forgot the concept of time, it was all rushing by, even when the immediate pain stopped, and all the voices he heard were far away and sounded oddly distorted. Then a sharp pain in his ribs. The first thing his mind consciously registered again was the taste in his mouth. Not copper – no blood, but a muddy taste and when he slowly scrambled up on his elbows and knees, he found that he had his mouth full of the dirt he had been lying on. And he found that his left arm could not hold his weight. It lolled uselessly by his side, and when he looked down, he saw it was twisted at an odd angle and he had, for the first time in his life, a full view of his left elbow.

Not letting out a single whimper of pain, he knelt, sitting on his heels, looking around. The Dark Lord stood there, an imposing figure in black robes, and his wand in thin, long fingers, and he almost smirked down at his followers, all more or less on the ground, kneeling, like him, or still lying. Not one of them had managed to be upright again yet.

Then, the Dark Lord laughed. It was manic laughter – and yet sounded quite happy at the same time. He moved, silently, almost glided, really, to a spot that he had probably picked in his mind, and with a flick of his wand, all of them – all of them, were pulled up. It was a strange feeling, to be jerked into a standing position, despite all the pain, and being held up by magic. Not comfortable at all and Severus struggled with his Occlumency. He kept his eyes on the ground, knew that he would never hold up should the Dark Lord push his way in. But the Dark Lord did not even seem to pay attention. Instead, he now stood in the middle of the circle he had formed from his Death Eaters and turned once around and came to a halt so that he had his back towards Severus.

"My Death Eaters, triumph is upon me. In a little while, I will destroy the last danger to the success of my cause and Pureblood Supremacy in Wizarding England. It will clear the path to scouring the soil of this island and the entire world of Mudblood and traitor scum and to immortality. I will conquer the last enemy and will not be stopped by any feeble, pitiful attempts to hinder me from becoming immortal."

And with that, with only that, the Dark Lord vanished. The spot he had stood at was empty and all around him, Death Eaters, slumped, fell on the ground again, not being held up by his spell. Severus managed to hold himself upright – but it was – this was – if he interpreted it correctly – this was about Lily and her child. The last danger. That was the child. In the prophecy. Lily's son. Lily.

He would have to – would have to – would have to – make sure the old man knew to keep her safe.

Even though he could barely walk, his legs were trembling, his arm obviously shattered. He would have to go to him immediately.

He stumbled, apparated, and stumbled again but he didn't care. The most prominent thought in his mind, ridiculous though it was, was the fact that he should have changed shoes. That he should not have gone in his new dragonhide boots, that they were very dirty now.

He stared down at them, his left arm hanging uselessly by his side. He probably couldn't avoid seeing the mediwitch about it. Only, he hoped Tizzy would not be there to see him like this. She always saw him at his weakest. And he did not want that. But the thought was too exhausting, the thought about anything but his dirty shoes at all, was too exhausting.

His feet by now, in the dirty dragonhide boots, knew the way up to the old man's office. He would go there. And tell him – he had to think for a moment – yes, would tell him to make extra sure that Lily was safe. That she would not be harmed.

Yes, that was what he would have to tell the old man. Mantra in his head. Keeping Lily safe. Keeping Lily safe.

The Gargoyle sprang aside and he barely noticed it commenting on his dirty robes and shoes and muddy face, and he dragged himself up the stairs, every bone in his body hurting, pure agony shooting through his left arm and he daren't touch it.

As if by magic, the door to the old man's office opened and he found himself stepping in, wondering if he would soil the carpet in there with his shoes, before he felt an arm going around him, helping him, and the old man saying something to someone, and himself being put into a chair and a vial pressed to his lips.

The vial made his head clear, it did not make the pain go away, it made it, if anything, more prominent. And he heard a door being closed, and the old man, sitting down on the other side of the desk, waiting, apparently, for him to say something.

Mantra.

"Keep Lily save," he croaked hoarsely. "He says he is close to destroying the last danger and he can only mean Lily's son. Please, is she save?"

"It is still only about Lily, isn't it?" the old man said and Severus shook his head immediately, whatever the potion he had ingested had been, helped, "No. Her family. And herself. But her. Keep her safe. He knows that I want her to be spared. She had to be protected especially."

The old man's eyes seemed cold, the twinkle gone and Severus was reminded of the first conversation they had just before the old man had taken him to Hogwarts. Yes, he was only thinking about Lily. He didn't care about her husband. Or her son. Though, her son, if he understood, could be the one to kill the Dark Lord. And that might not be the worst to happen. But Lily. Lily needed to be safe.

"I want them safe. I can't fail," he whispered and looked at his shoes – and for a moment, a moment of clarity, he saw that there wasn't that much difference between the Dark Lord and the Old Man. He did not trust either of them not to look into his mind. He did not truly either of them to keep his Lily safe.

"Has he said more?" the Old Man asked and Severus could only shake his head.

"He said, triumph is upon me. In a little while, I will destroy the last danger to the success of my cause and Pureblood Supremacy in Wizarding England. It will clear the path to scouring the soil of this island and the entire world of Mudblood and traitor scum and to immortality. I will conquer even the last and most powerful enemy and will not be stopped by any feeble, pitiful attempts to hinder me from becoming immortal," he recited from memory.

"Very well then," he replied and waved his hand. "You should go see Madam Pomfrey."

"Will you keep her – them – safe?" he asked again, loudly and the Old Man nodded. Only nodded, and then the door to the office was waved open by his hand again and Severus knew that he was dismissed. He got up heavily, cold and misery seeping into his bones and was grateful, his head cleared, that the way too the Infirmary wasn't too long, that he would get his arm fixed, then could fall into bed, and sleep a few hours. There were classes, naturally, in the morning. He had sixth years, and fifth years, and first years. He would have to see if he had any potion that could help him with that.

And if he could, he would fix the arm himself. He would have to read up on healing spells. Wouldn't want to rely on the Infirmary.

"Severus?" and there she was. He hadn't wanted her to see him. She would pity him now, or finally be repulsed by him, or something. He did not want to think about her, did not want to think about what that hug, that kiss, her behaviour meant.

And there she stood, in front of him. "Not again," she only breathed – and it did not sound pitiful. It did not sound mocking. It sounded worried. And suddenly, her hand was on his back again and she helped him walk, stroked his back. And he wondered, briefly, whether she considered this something of a friendship. He did not know about friendship. He did not know about any form of relationship, real relationship to people. He had not even talked to his mother since she had confessed that she loved him under the influence of Veritaserum.

Maybe – maybe – she was his friend. Or growing to be. He didn't know.

"What was he doing to you?" she asked, concerned, and pointed at his arm.

"Shattering and twisting," he said quietly.

"I can't fix this," she replied immediately. "And there's still Alastor Moody in there, insisting on a wooden leg instead of a real magical replacement and fighting with Poppy. It's been going on since this afternoon. You'd think one of them was hoarse by now but apparently, no." She rolled her eyes, then looked into his eyes again. "I'm sure Mum could. I can take you to Mum."

He said nothing – he didn't know what to say – didn't know what to think, whether to say yes,or no, or just storm in and stun Moody but all thought was taken away from him, when she suddenly, pressed herself against him, and his back to the wall. He smelled the exotic scent of her hair again, pineapple, mango, and heard the clunking noise that had made her, probably, press him into the wall. He felt like groaning, it hurt, but at the same time, she as good as hugged him again, had her chest pressed against his and her hands were on his waist.

"Lucky that Poppy was about to send me home," she whispered very, very softly. "Otherwise you would have just walked in there and Merlin knows what would have happened. But I think he's leaving now."

"You're not my mother, or my wife, or any sort of relation and if I want that wooden thing, I will keep that thing. I will not pretend I have not lost that leg," he heard the auror shout. "And you can't make me."

The clunking, stomping sound grew fainter and fainter and slowly, Tizzy let go off him. Not that he wanted her to. It had been that weird, warm feeling again with her against him, a feeling, almost, of hope that things would get better eventually.

"We can have you fixed by the real mediwitch now," she smiled and didn't seem to hesitate one moment before she took his good, his reliable, right hand and slowly, pulled him out of the shadows that the wall had provided, and looking around, helped him into the Infirmary.

Holding hands with him. That hadn't happened ever before. And her hand was so small and warm – and again, it warmed him. Not only his hand but the rest of his body as well. Everything. Maybe friendship was supposed to feel like this. Maybe, if he could, he would try and search his memory if it had felt like this, early in the days, when Lily had touched him occasionally. Hadn't happened that often. But he would find that out. Maybe, she was his friend.

"Oh dear, Severus," he heard the mediwitch say, a moment later. Apparently he had been dragged into the Infirmary by Tizzy without him realising that.

"Just the arm," he whispered and he felt Tizzy was still there, holding his hand.

"Of course, Severus," Madam Pomfrey smiled gently and he suddenly sat on a cot, the girl next to him, holding his right hand in her left, in her lap, squeezing it.

"No," the mediwitch shook her head. "Tizzy, you do it."

"I can't," she protested.

"I will help. You've done the theory. I know you have, and I'm sure Severus won't mind."

He merely shook his head. He did not mind. He didn't mind anything as long as the pain was about to stop and he could get to sleep. He wanted to sleep and rest and not feel this pain any more. But the warm feeling of her hand in his he realised quickly, was greatly missed and he looked down at his shoes. He would have to clean them before classes in the morning. He couldn't possibly let his students see his dirty shoes.

"Drink this," the girl said gently and handed him a vial. "It will stop the pain first before I set it. Or try to."

He lifted the vial to his lips, downed it, stared back at his shoes again and felt the crack in his arm, as if it was far away, only a glimmer of pain left and he felt his eyes close at the lack of pain, the cosy feeling of the girl holding on to his other hand now, as if she was checking to see if it was alright – which she probably did.

"You're fine," she whispered. "Poppy, I think he needs to go to bed."

"Help him down, will you?" he heard through mist and layers of rushing noise in his ears and he felt himself pulled up again and with hooded eyes, almost unable to see, as well as hear, he knew she was walking him to the dungeons. Her arm around his waist and he wanted to say something, maybe thank you, or something like it but he was too tired.

And his shoes needed to be cleaned before classes.

_**xx **_

_**Thank you for reading and please don't forget to review. **_

_**Toothache is a bitch. **_


	29. Chapter 29

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

Albus truly loved those evenings when he knew that Severus had not been called, when there was nothing planned, no raid of Death Eaters, when he could go back to his, and by now, Lasse's private quarters early, did not have to return to his office. Those nights when Fawkes followed them and sat on the perch there instead of the office, when the phoenix would sometimes sing, or trill a song and Lasse and he could sit and just read quietly. He loved those evenings when he knew that he could go to bed early, and sleep.

There had been a few times when it hadn't been quiet – and especially Alastor Moody had been quite busy, with his relatively new wooden leg. Had captured three Death Eaters – even though, well, Albus hated to think of the man that now lay St Mungo's – a part of his nose missing. And his eye. Had lost an eye. But at least, there were three Death Eaters less out there.

Still, it was such a night, this night, and after enjoying all the candy at the Halloween feast, he and Lasse had simply gone to their quarters, and Lasse lounged on the couch, reading, while he tried to focus on the tome he kept on his thighs on the chair, but he couldn't quite as he was thinking about the feast.

Tizzy, as always, had sat next to Severus Snape – and for the first time, truly, for the first time since he had come to Hogwarts to teach, since he had begun to spy for him, he had seen the young man, the boy, smile. It must have been something his niece had said, since she laughed full heartedly herself and had her hand on his arm. His right arm, mind. Those two had become friends, he noticed, though he suspected that Tizzy was interested in a bit more. But as long as she cheered his spy up – all was fine by him. And if he could forget his obsession with Lily Potter – the better.

"Vat are you sinking about?" Lasse asked from the couch, smiling.

He smiled back. "Tizzy. And her ability to even make Snape smile."

The Swede chuckled. "She has zat ability. Even so I believe zat she has grown a lot up."

"Mh," Albus agreed. "It's good for her to work with Poppy."

"But vhy do you call him Snape? You call every teacher by his first name."

Albus sighed but remained silent for a while. It bothered him that he only thought about himself – and about the woman he loved. Not about the child that was in more danger, or her husband. It bothered him that Severus Snape still carried around his youthful drudges against those Gryffindor boys. Mere teenage pranks and Severus Snape was still angry about it.

"You don't like him, do you?" he asked gently. "But you trust him?"

"I trust him, yes. And I don't know if I like him yet. He's only been here a short time but so far, he has done a lot of work for us, for the Order."

Lasse nodded, and suddenly, Fawkes let out a shrill cry and burst away, quite suddenly – and a moment later, Lasse had jumped – he knew. The Potters. He had put a spell on their safe house. He had made sure to know immediately if there was an attack. And now he knew.

"Vot is it?" Lasse asked, concerned, when Albus himself stood very erect, his hand trembling.

"The Potters," he whispered, and felt suddenly, hot and cold and his breath was coming in gasps. "Something has happened to the Potters."

He got up, to the window, then back.

"You have to go look," Lasse urged.

"Fawkes will be back in a moment," he replied, and back to the window.

"How do you know? How can you not go look?"

"Fawkes will be quicker and if Tom Riddle succeeded, we have to act fast. Fawkes is quicker than me," he replied – and yet, he had no idea where this explanation came from, why he hadn't apparated immediately to save what was to save. But the phoenix would be quick. Quicker than himself in assessing this situation, in telling him – and yes, he burst back into the room within a heartbeat and landed on Albus's shoulder.

There was distinct singing, trilling, and Albus – at first – did not understand. Then Fawkes sang again – and he knew he had heard correctly.

"Thank you, Fawkes," he said voicelessly.

"Vot? Vot happened?" Lasse asked quickly.

"Tom Riddle is gone," he whispered.

"Vot?"

"Tom Riddle is gone," he repeated. "Fawkes knew. James and Lily are dead. Harry is alive. Harry seemed to kill Voldemort. I have to see. I have to go," he said, utterly confused by those news – not quite yet grasping the news his phoenix had imparted on him.

"I vill go wiz you."

Albus shook his head. "No. Please, erm," he swallowed, "wait here for me. I might send my Patronus with a message."

Lasse nodded – and without another good bye, Albus apparated straight to Godric's Hollow.

xx

Severus couldn't remember going to bed as early as he had after the Halloween feast. Tizzy and him had talked and he could not believe, not even the next morning, that she had managed to make him smile like this. She was witty, she was funny, and she always spend time with him when she could and he found that he did not mind at all. She was good company and he appreciated it. She was there for him, as she had promised, and for the first time since Lily, he felt as if he had a friend.

And, admitting it to himself, it was a nice feeling.

He stretched in his bed, feeling very rested and relaxed and he decided that he would have to go to bed earlier more often if it made him feel so well. He even managed to swing his legs out of bed, and was quick in the bathroom. Shower, then breakfast, then classes. He had found his routine and most students were still afraid of him. It was nice, he thought, smirking, thinking about the two students who would scrub cauldrons in detention that night.

Slowly, he pulled his pyjama top over his head – and at first, he thought his eyes were still bleary from sleep. At first, he thought it was a trick of the eye. At first, he thought that this couldn't be.

He rubbed his eyes, then lifted his arm closer to his face, then rubbed his eyes again.

Faded. Not gone, but paler than it was when it was not activated. A lot paler. A lot more faded. It looked almost like a scar. He didn't understand. It had never looked like this before.

It was jet black when the Dark Lord called, a faint grey when he didn't. Never this – skin-coloured. He realised that his finger was slowly moving towards it as he stared at it with wide eyes. It was strange and he pulled back at the last moment before touching it. It was better not to. He didn't know what it meant – didn't know at all.

He had to go and tell the Old Man. The Old Man would know. If someone knew, he would.

Severus jumped into his clothes, not caring that his hair was dirty and lank and that he was maybe smelling a bit. He didn't care at all. He could always shower once things were explained. Once – this – was explained.

He sprinted through the castle, sprinted up stairs, down corridors, until he reached the Gargoyle.

"Let me up," he shouted – quite out of breath and the Gargoyle complied almost immediately. It seemed it even looked at him with something of a smirk or a smile, or a happy expression.

"Headmaster!" he shouted, pushing the door open without nodding, almost falling through it. "Here, it's strange, it's so faded..." he saw the Old Man sitting behind his desk, and immediately pushed up his sleeves, the frock coat's, the robe's, the shirt's and held his hand up to him.

"This doesn't surprise me," the Old Man said softly, smiling – it seemed – a little sadly.

"What? Why?" he asked, still out of breath. "Why is it like that?"

"Because Tom Riddle," he paused, "Voldemort, is gone."

"What?" Severus shook his head. "What?"

"Sit down and I'll explain."

"Again, Severus shook his head. "I'm hearing quite well from here. Explain. Please."

"Voldemort," he paused, obviously trying to search for words, "went to the Potters."

"Lily," he gasped. "Is Lily alright?"

The Old Man shook his head – and Severus felt himself slumping into a chair that seemed to magically appear behind him. "I have not had the chance yet to evaluate what exactly has happened. But it seems he tried to attempt to kill Harry Potter. James fought valiantly, it seems, and as far as I can tell up until now, and from what I can gather, Lily died by his hand, protecting her son. Harry Potter vanished Tom Riddle."

"Lily..."

"Lily is dead, but her son survives. Because of her," he explained but Severus heard only rushing in his ears. This could not be happening. It was a nightmare.

He heard something make a sound, a terrible sound, like a wounded animal and he felt himself slumping forward in his chair. He heard, faintly, the Old Man moving and suddenly, he saw his shoes, it seemed he was standing over him.

He had promised. He had promised. This was why he was there. This was why he was sitting in this office. This was why he had gone to him. He raised his face slowly.

"I thought...you were going...to keep her...safe..." he whispered.

"She and James put their faith in the wrong person," said the Old Man. "Rather like you, Severus. Weren't you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?"

His breathing was shallow but his anger – anger and hurt and this terrible feeling inside he had no name for – grew. How – how could he say something like this, hold this against him? He had done everything, everything in his power to save her. He had gone bidding to two masters. Had begged for her life, had received his punishment. The one rather short-lived and painful, and the other, long-drawn out and agonising.

"Her boy survives," the Old Man repeated coldly and Severus's head jerked a little. He couldn't control this. He didn't know what he was doing – and what the Old Man was doing.

"Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and colour of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?"

How could he? He knew he did. He knew he dreamt about her, about her eyes, about her face, about her smile, about everything. He knew he was doing this. And Potter's son, with her eyes, what good was that? Did the Old Man try to make him feel guilty? Guilty for what? Trying to guilty him into doing what? Or trying to make him feel even worse? Letting him know that Potter's child – the child he wanted to be his – had her eyes?

"Don't!" he bellowed. "Gone...Dead..."

"Is this remorse, Severus?"

He slumped forward again, put his face in his hands, shook his head. Clenched his jaw. "I wish...I wish I were dead..."

"And what use would that be to anyone?" the Old Man said, his voice having that terrible cold quality again. Use – yes. Use. "If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear."

Of course he loved her. He still loved her. He would have given his life for her. He still would. He was ready. He would, this moment, if it'd make her alive again. Anything for her. Anything. But the way forward, no, this wasn't clear. He peered up – and it hurt. It hurt.

Lily gone. Lily gone. Lily gone.

Lily truly gone. Forever. He would never see _her_ eyes again. Even if he would ever have to set his eyes on Potter's boy, they wouldn't be the same. They weren't hers. He would never see her smile again or say 'Hello Sev'. He would never, never talk to her again.

But what could he do? There was no way. No way. He had done all this for her and now that he had failed, had lost, there was no way. Absolutely none.

"What – what do you mean?" he asked, looking at him.

"You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son."

Potter's son. But if Lily had died protecting the child, and if she had died by the Dark Lord's hand, there was nothing he had to protect the child from. If Potter's child, Lily's child, had killed the Dark Lord, then there was no need.

"He does not need protection," he protested weakly, "The Dark Lord has gone –"

"– The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible trouble when he does," he explained, as if he was explaining a business transaction.

Return. But hadn't he said he was gone? That that Potter child, Lily's son, had vanished him? His thoughts whirred in his mind, circling around Lily, trying to understand, trying to grasp. Lily marrying Potter, having a child, when all the time he loved her. Loved her more. Had wanted to be with her, have children with her. And then she went and married him – and had not, never, forgiven him. Never at all, and it was because of Potter, and he was being asked to protect the child? The child she had with Potter? The child that had a hand in killing her?

But it was Lily's. It was everything that was left of her, everything that might be a little like her.

He swallowed hard and deep, and slowly, steadied his breathing. He would, he could, make sure, Lily, wherever she was, knew that he was protecting her child. A last service to her. Because of her. He would do it. Because of her, despite Potter. But he couldn't – just imagining the child's godfather – he knew, Sirius Black – would hear about this, he would be killed instantly. He knew. He knew. And Potter would be spinning in his grave. Nobody could know. Nobody could ever know of his failure in protecting her. And nobody could know that he would protect her son. Was doing all of this because of her.

Lily gone. Lily gone. Lily gone.

"Very well. Very well," he said slowly after a long while, "But never – never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear...especially Potter's son...I want your word!" He looked at him, and knew that he had never felt so sure about anything in his life – ferocity about this, sureness that he did not want anyone to know – and hurt. So much hurt. Insides clenching, coldness. Utter anguish.

The Old Man stared at him, long. A moment passed, and another one. He seemed to think, evaluate him, figure him out. "My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?" the Old Man sighed. "If you insist..."

"I insist," he said, regaining most of his sense. "I insist," he repeated and stood up, the chair he had sat on, clattering behind him.

He didn't care. He didn't care at all and ran from the Old Man's office – the blurriness, he knew, not from the fact that he had only recently woken up. The blurriness in his eyes – from tears yet unshed.

xx

Albus sat down in his chair and let out a long, deep sigh.

"Did you haff to be so hard on ze poor boy?" he heard a sharp, criticising voice from the person coming down the stairs from his private quarters. "He just heard zat he has lost ze love of his life. Ze girl he adored and admired and worshipped and vot do you do? You berate him and ask vot he cannot do."

"I have to, Lasse," he sighed. "Harry Potter must be protected under all circumstances. "And Severus will."

"You use him. You only use him!" the Swede shouted angrily. "You use all people."

He shook his head tiredly. "I have to. The boy is our only hope."

"And you don't even zink about him. He could srow himself down ze stairs now and all you would mourn was zat he cannot protect ze boy."

"He will not."

"Make sure he does not. At least zend Tizzy to him. She can help him."

Albus nodded, "Yes. That's maybe a good idea," he spoke and nodded towards Fawkes – who took off again immediately.

_**xx**_

_**Phew. Difficult chapter. Hope it was okay. Parts of this chapter are directly taken from Deathly Hallows. Please review and let me know what you think. I know that especially that part of the Prince's Tale, everyone sees differently in their heads and I've tried to do it justice, but I'm not sure I could. **_

_**I must admit that I've had trouble with the timeline – especially since Harry seems to disappear for about 24 hours with Hagrid, and since I can only figure out how Severus found out about Lily's death, how Albus knew. The Dark Mark, Fawkes etc, are all guesses on my part. So I apologise if I overlooked anything from canon. **_


	30. Chapter 30

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

"Aberforth?" she asked sleepily, poking her husband. "There's a large Patronus standing in our bedroom."

"Grml Hmpfh," he replied simply and opened his eyes blearily.

"Do you know what it is?" she pointed at the large animal whose head was bent slightly, broad neck and huge horns.

Aberforth rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "It's a muskox," he replied sleepily.

"Oh, very helpful. And who has a muskox as a Patronus?" she huffed. "Speak!" she told the silvery white scary looking animals.

"Please, it is important," it began.

"The Swede," Aberforth remarked unnecessarily. It was clear from the accent – and Minerva poked him again, just as she also glared at him.

"Minerva, please come up to ze office. I haff important news," the Patronus said and and before it vanished, it added. "It is very important. Ze Voldemort might be dead."

"Vold – what?" Minvera paled, clutched her husband's pyjama top front and stared at him. "Dead? How?" she knew she was wild-eyed and let go of him and got her tartan robes, slipping them on, and gripped her wand tightly in her hand – not quite trusting that message – and the Swede. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she whispered and gave Aberforth a kiss on the cheek before she rushed off. Not caring that it was two in the morning.

xx

Tizzy smiled to herself. It had been an amazing feast the night before. A lovely Halloween and she couldn't remember, ever, seeing Severus smile like this. And his smile was lovely. And he was lovely and just him. She sighed. Bugger, she had really fallen hard. But of course, he, probably, would be coming around soon. It was a lovely feeling. And she had made him smile like this.

And they had grown closer. He let her in, at least to a certain extent. He let her spend time with him, and let her touch him without flinching and without pulling back. He even talked to her, told her things, slowly, hesitantly, most just about his classes. But still, it was progress.

She jumped out of bed, into the shower, did her hair up prettily (oh, she would meet him for lunch, they had talked about this the night before), and slipping into her healer-apprentice-robes, she left her room – and stopped. It was quite unusual to see Dad there, so early in the mornings.

"Dad?" she asked confusedly. He looked tired and confused himself and somewhat odd. Happy. And then not.

"Good morning, Tisiphone," he said and smiled, patting the chair next to him. "Sit down, we have to talk."

Oh, this couldn't be good. When Dad said they'd have to talk, she had usually done something, well, wrong. But she couldn't remember doing anything at all. Dad didn't mind her talking to Severus, and Mum didn't. And no, she really had been good as gold lately. Peeves sure as anything wouldn't have told anyone that she had told him how to...she stopped herself from smirking. This was serious. Apparently something had happened.

Severus.

"Is Severus okay?" she asked and sat down immediately.

Her father nodded.

"Where's Mum?" she asked, panic rising in her. But Dad wouldn't be so relatively calm if something had happened to her, would he? No, he wouldn't.

"Tisiphone, you did meet the Potters at the Order meeting, did you not?"

She nodded, frowning. "Did something happen to them?"

Dad nodded. "Yes. It's...nobody understands yet. And nobody knows what has happened exactly but he-who-must-not-be-named has vanished."

"What?" she gasped.

"Yes, we don't know for sure how it happened but the boy survived."

"And he's gone?" she asked, disbelieving.

"Yes. But Lily and James Potter are dead, Tizzy."

She nodded, not sure what all of this meant. If that evil monster was gone, Severus would never have to go back. There was no more fight. Except, probably, if there were still Death Eaters out there. There was no more war. Nothing. It had been as long as she could remember. In a way. She always knew there was something Dark and Evil lurking out there. It was surreal. Truly strange. Unbelievable.

"I don't...understand."

"None of us do, m'love. Not even your uncle. Or he hasn't told anyone yet. But he was here a moment ago. And he asked me to ask you to go and try to comfort Severus."

"Comfort Severus? Why? Shouldn't he be ecstatic?" she asked, confused.

Dad sighed. "Lily was his best friend until his fifth year, my girl. I – don't think he ever got over the end of that friendship. Maybe he felt more for her, I'm not sure, but your uncle says he needs someone. He needs a friend now, a better friend than Lily was. You heard her during that Order meeting. She...I don't know why he still mourns the end of that friendship but he does. And, my words now, he needs a better friend than this. Especially right now."

She nodded slowly. "So Lily really was his friend. I thought she was too angry back then. There seemed to have been grudges."

He nodded back at her and took her hand on the table – squeezing it gently. "Go down to the dungeons. Your uncle says he's spoken to the Bloody Baron and you will be let in to his quarters."

Okay – so his childhood friend had died at the hand of his master. A childhood friend whom he still grieved for – in a way. Of course he would be devastated when he lost a friend to the man he had, a while ago, pledged his allegiance to.

"I'll go," she smiled gently. "But where's Mum?"

Her father groaned. "Doing your uncle's dirty work again, apparently."

xx

He sat and stared at the fire burning. His eyes burning just like the flames, licking their way around the logs.

Lily was dead.

That was all there was to it. Lily was dead. And knowing that her son was alive was no consolation. It was absolutely no consolation. On the contrary.

Her picture, the one he had kept in the drawer by his bed, was in his fingers, and she smiled and waved. As if she were still alive. Just there. Not dead. He did not have to look at the picture. He knew what she did it in it, she knew what she looked like. Her image was branded in his memory – everything from the little girl to the grown woman. All the stages of her – from childhood to almost her death. He did not need to see it. Did not need to see her in the picture. It was enough, most of the time, to close his eyes and she was there.

It was useless now – everything was useless. The picture, the fire, himself. His life.

He slowly pulled his burning eyes from the fire and it fell on the picture in his useless, limp hands. Waving, smiling. She was gone. And he didn't need the picture. He had her on his mind. He would not need it. His life was useless now. And probably the Old Man would do a better job of protecting Potter's child than he had protecting her.

He slowly slid from the chair to the floor, on his knees. And with the picture in his hands, he crawled towards the fire, slowly, terribly slowly and he felt the heat of the flames on his skin but it could not warm him. He was cold and useless. Even the Dark Lord had called him useless. And now the Old Man named protecting the boy his only use. He could not do it.

He sat on his heels, kneeling in front of the fire and brought the picture of smiling, waving, living Lily up to his face. He bent down a little and very slowly, he kissed her.

"Good bye," he whispered hoarsely and staidly, carefully, unwaveringly, he placed the picture on top of the flames, pulling back after only a moment, uncaring whether the heat had burned his skin and he watched, steadily as the fire consumed her picture. As the fire consumed her.

She was gone now. Forever.

xx

She tried further to piece things together in her mind. So that woman – Lily Potter – and Severus had been friends at school. Then something had probably happened, maybe Severus falling in love with someone else, or with her, and they had lost their friendship over that. He had never gotten over this, still wanted to be her friend (which was, a little, odd after so many years) and she had been killed. And since he was a spy, he had not been able to stop that monster from killing her. Merlin, that really was – well. Yeah, he needed comfort.

The door was there, surprisingly, though Alb had probably really made sure that it was there and she knocked on it. She was still in her healer-apprentice-robes but it didn't matter. Poppy would be fine without her and she suspected Alb had told her already anyway. This was more important now, as long as there were no other injured.

There was no answer from inside and she, after taking a deep breath, turned the handle and stepped in.

"Oh Severus," she gasped when she saw him kneeling in front of the fire, shoulders hunched and moving irregularly. She ran to his side and fell to her knees beside him, and without hesitating, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled her to him, his head falling limply on her shoulder, his nose resting on her collarbone.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, rocking him gently. "I'm so sorry."

He said nothing, but suddenly, he clutched her to him, his arms, like iron vices, around her waist. She let her face rest against his hair, her lips dropping a kiss, occasionally, on his head.

"It's going to be okay," she told him and held him and she saw he wasn't crying but clutching her as if she was the only thing keeping him there.

xx

She held him and he remembered the warmth he had felt before from her body, chasing away the coldness he felt inside. She did it now. Her body was warm against him and he couldn't help himself, he had to hold her, had to press her closer, had to forget this cold, despite the fire, had to forget it, anything. Forget about everything.

He looked up, slowly, and she had already adjusted her head so he could look into her eyes. Blue eyes. Not green. She smiled at him. A gentle, soft smile. Different from Lily's. Not as open but full of understanding and compassion. Not as happy, not as exuberant, just steady. Warm.

Warm.

He didn't know. He honestly didn't know what came over him but it all seemed logical in his mind at that moment. It all seemed to make so much sense.

If she could chase away all the coldness only holding him like this – he swore that she would be able to chase away all the rest of it if she – and he –

He didn't think. Didn't want to think any more and less than a heartbeat later, less than the blink of an eye, his hands had moved from her waist to her neck, in her hair and he pulled her to him – and he didn't know why he was doing it – but he kissed her. Kissed her deeply and touched her tongue with his suddenly and she was kissing back and more of the coldness was gone and he knew she would be able to do more – and it all happened so quickly that her robes were gone and just as eagerly, she had divested him of his shirt and her suddenly lay on top of her and it felt so good and it made him stop to think. He didn't have to think and he was cold any more.

xx

She had slid down the tiles and by now sat underneath the shower, the hot water washing over her and she tried to wash things away. Not the feeling of him on her and in her and around her and holding her – but him with the cold eyes afterwards sending her away. She barely had moments to compose herself when he had thrown her clothes back to her and had told her to get out.

Angrily and coldly and maybe – regretfully. And it made her feel so – cheap.

She could have dealt with being sent away, really, but not like this. And with her barely able to catch her breath. Not that there had been much breath to catch, he had been quick and hard and desperate. Treating her as if she was some cheap kind of whore. And she hadn't even stopped him. She hadn't thought it had been wrong. Until a moment before he was finished.

Finished with her.

She had scrambled up, had dressed, had looked at him but he had only pointed at the door. And she didn't understand. Had never been like this with her. Not with that calculating coldness.

And by now, she truly doubted that Lily Potter had been a mere friend. That desperate grieving, mourning, that pain she had seen, for a friend – she doubted it but she didn't know. She didn't know anything. Had dreamt for weeks now about sex with Severus. Had dreamt of being closer to him but not like this. Not done and over with within 5 minutes and then discarding her.

Like a whore.

She scrubbed her entire body until it was pink and raw and realised that it wasn't always good if you got what you dreamt about.

xx

"You bloody, stupid idiot," Minerva McGonagall shouted at her brother-in-law angrily. "Blood wards. Nice. But those are the worst sort of Muggles. They're even more idiotic than you. You can't leave him there. Put him anywhere but there."

"Minerva," he groaned. "How often? He is safe there. He will grow up as a normal boy. He won't know he will be in books, he won't know that he's famous. He will have a carefree childhood without any danger looming over him."

"There will be other dangers from this family. From this neighbourhood," she fumed. "Ya know, for the first time, I see what Aberforth always sees in ya. I see what he means. You sit here and decide over people's lives without so much as looking at them. Without observing," she fell hard into her Scottish brogue. "You send people to their deaths and to horrible lives and you sit here smugly thinking you're doing the right thing. It's not right, Albus. You're using people. D'you even know how he found the Potters?"

"Yes," he nodded and stared at Fawkes, perching. "Sirius Black was working for Voldemort."

"Sirius Black?"

"Yes. He was secret keeper and...he was arrested and brought to Azkaban for killing Peter Pettigrew earlier today."

"What?" she paled and sat down, clutching her chest.

"It's a long story. Could we talk about this in the morning? I'm sure you want to celebrate a little with Aberforth and Tizzy," he sighed.

"Celebrate?" she shrieked. "Celebrate? The Potters are gone. Pettigrew is gone. And Black is Azkaban for killing all three? There's not reason to celebrate."

She stood up, huffed, and was sorely tempted, just to hit her brother-in-law, slap him soundly – or hex him into the next decade but she made do with a glare – and rushed out of the office.

He was right in one thing though. She wanted to see her husband and her daughter. Hug them and have a stiff drink and stretch her sore muscles. And rant some. Because Aberforth was right. So inconsiderate. And then only moving Arabella close. Not even a wizard or a witch who would be able to protect him more if there was immediate danger. But oh no, the great Albus Dumbledore knew everything best.

She still huffed and fumed when she came home, kicked her shoes off and let herself fall on the couch. Tizzy sat in the old armchair, legs pulled up tight to her chest, her nose buried between her knees, looking emptily into space.

"Tizzy?" she asked, softly, turning around when suddenly a glass with firewhiskey was pushed into her hands. Her daughter did not react.

"She hasn't quite digested it yet, I think," Aberforth whispered, sitting next to her. "And she spent most of the day in the Infirmary after trying to cheer up Severus and Moody came by. It wasn't pretty. Celebrating with one eye only."

She sighed, emptied her glass and got up, enlarged the chair her daughter sat on and pulled her girl into her arms. Tizzy fell against her, her legs still close to her body but her head on her chest.

"It's over, wee angel. He's gone," she whispered and kissed her girl's forehead tenderly.

_**xx**_

_**Another very difficult chapter for me as itat88 can attest – and I have to thank her a lot! Thanks! **_

_**I hope you liked it and please review!**_


	31. Chapter 31

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

Dreamless Sleep was a wonderful potion. It ensured the drinker peace, the end to ache, the end to all the knowledge of what happened, the end of thinking. Blissful, empty state of mind. Not remembering during dreams all the problems, all the trouble, all the fear. All the knowledge that Azkaban was near. And the Dementors.

Dreamless Sleep – it stopped the nightmares and the wonderful dreams. And there was nothing, only wonderful, blessed dark.

And Severus wished there was something like Thoughtless Wakefulness. But there wasn't and he wouldn't have the chance to develop it.

He was a Death Eater – a murderer – and he had stained, soiled, maybe violated, the Old Man's niece. And as such, a triple miscreant – a villain, a killer, a rapist, he deserved nothing less than a Kiss. And he was ready for it. He deserved it and he wanted nothing less. And nothing more.

He wondered, as he dressed, what it would be like. Would it be a constant repetition of his worst nightmares? Or worse than that? He would still do it. He would go to the Old Man and would tell him that he did not want to wait for someone to drag him away. He still had a last bit of pride now – he wouldn't as soon as some Aurors stunned him and carried him out of the school. He'd rather go upright than to be dragged away.

He buttoned his frock coat carefully, pulled his robes on and with a last glance at his ugly visage in the mirror, he left his quarters. Left everything as it was. He wouldn't come back in any case. It didn't matter what it looked like. It didn't matter that his bed wasn't made and that there was an empty vial labelled with Dreamless Sleep. It did not matter at all.

xx

Eileen Prince was close to sighing happily. Of course she would never sigh happily, it just wasn't in her – but he-who-must-not-be-named had vanished. And her son was alive. And well. And free. Free of a master. She hadn't seen him yet, but then again, she had spent her day and most of her night in Hogsmeade, had celebrated the end of oppression, the end of war. It was wonderful. It was new. It was – she couldn't stop a soft sigh as she wrapped her bathrobe around herself. The dungeons were chilly and she was still tired, despite the fact that she hadn't drunk anything, that she had merely talked to Aberforth for a while and had just enjoyed herself. For the first time in decades, probably. She had just observed people and it had been wonderful to feel part of something.

And since the house elves had accepted her by now as a regular at the castle, she had her breakfast there, her cup of tea, already in front of her, and a piece of toast next to it.

She was as happy as she could be. And even though it wasn't much – it was better than she had felt in a long, long time. Now, if only Severus would realise that he was free and she wanted to be a mother and spend time with him, even though there was no imminent threat now by a Dark wizard, then she would be ecstatic.

"Good morning, Eileen Prince," the Bloody Baron, her favourite ghost, and probably her favourite person, came floating through the door but he didn't smile like he usually would. He wore the expression he usually would when he encountered Gryffindors.

"Good morning, Baron," she replied and she dreaded what he had to say. "What is it?"

"Your son, Eileen," he said and she noticed that, for the first time, he had said her first name only. "Your son."

"What? Did he...? Did something happen to him?"

He shook his transparent head. "No. However, there are plenty of things you need to know. And then I need you to act on what you hear."

She nodded solemnly and waited for the ghost to begin.

xx

"I'm here," Severus said and put his wand on the table, his eyes on the ground.

"Yes, I can see that," the Old Man replied. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I'm here to turn myself in," he said voicelessly.

The Old Man sighed. "Sit down, Severus."

He did, slowly, not quite willingly, but he would have to. He would have to listen to the Old Man now, maybe more than ever. Until he was – in Azkaban. Then there probably wouldn't be more to listen to than screams and his own worst memories.

"You will not be punished, Severus. You were, you are, my spy. And you obviously came to our side before Voldemort vanished. Why should you be punished?"

"I'm a Death Eater."

"You were a Death Eater, Severus. There will no trial for you. You are free," he said friendly and his eyes twinkled strangely. "You have two tasks now. Teach Potions, and help me protect Harry Potter."

Severus shook his head. "But I'm guilty."

"Yes, maybe. For a youthful mistake. But we should forgive and forget those. You made the right decision before the end. Out of your own free will. That is enough."

xx

She had never truly felt the urge yet to tell Poppy that she was sick and not feeling well and that she wanted to stay in her bed, in her rooms, but that morning, she truly wanted to. She really did not fancy facing a lot of people – quite on the contrary. And who knew who would come to the Infirmary. If she had to see Alastor Moody again – with only one eye and half his nose missing and the wooden leg, she didn't know what she'd do. Well, she'd do probably just deal with it.

Because with that, she could deal. With the rest – no. People would ask her why she wasn't her cheerful self. And how could she explain? The more she thought about it, the more she realised that it hadn't solely been his fault to use her like that. She had basically thrown herself at him. Had insisted on hugging him. She should have maybe just put her hand on his shoulder, or anything else, held his hand, he – oh well. There was no sense in thinking about it.

She had to deal with that too. Couldn't tell anyone. She had to – to a certain extent – protect Severus – because, well, everyone knew her. In people's eyes here at the castle, she was the good girl. The cheerful, happy girl. And he was the brooding, dark character. And people would think he had forced himself on her. And he hadn't. He had merely let out his grief that way – only – it would have been alright, no problem at all, if he hadn't thrown her out like this.

She slowly got up from her bed – nobody should see how she should felt. She'd try and smile. And go to work. There were students around and they would have to be tended to if something happened. And Poppy needed her in there. Woman had looked so tired, so exhausted the day before.

She dressed, the uniform she had worn the day before in a box at the back of her closet, and the one she was wearing now, merely a transfigured robe, and left her room, their quarters rather quickly without breakfast. Mum mustn't see that she was still not better than she had been the night before. Had consoled her, had even brought her to bed and that hadn't happened in a while, the night before.

A fake smile that looked quite real plastered on her face, she hurried to the Infirmary. Maybe Poppy would let her sort something in the back, and didn't look too closely at her. Hadn't slept well, or probably at all.

Still – she swallowed, made sure her smile was in place and opened the door, and was immediately taken hold off by someone. Eileen Prince. Tizzy frowned as the older woman held her upper arm.

"Erm. Good morning," she said, being so reminded of that – thing – that had happened between her son and herself.

"I talked to Pomfrey," the woman said coldly, "and she agreed. So the two of us will take a walk."

"What? No," she shook her head. Oh Merlin – that woman knew something. Or everything. And she couldn't talk.

"Yes, go, it will do you good. You've looked peaky yesterday and still do. You need a bit of fresh air," the mediwitch appeared and basically shoved her out and closer to Eileen Prince who did not release her hold on her upper arm.

"Let me go," she said, sharply. That woman had no right to manhandle her like this. And to talk to her. Just because it had been her son she had slept with. Or because of anything else she had done.

"No," Eileen Prince said sharply. "We need to talk."

"I have to work," Tizzy spat. "I have things to do."

"Yes. Later," her voice softened a little and kept on half-dragging her until they were out, down on the path to the Black Lake. It was only then, when that woman began to speak and Tizzy had to admit, that the fresh air alone felt nice. Somehow. And the softening of Miss Prince's features did a lot. But she was confused and puzzled and not understanding. Not at all.

"What do you know of Lily Evans?" Eileen Prince asked gently.

Tizzy thought, then shook her head. "Nothing. Don't know who that is."

"She's Lily Potter, dear. Evans was her maiden name."

"Oh. She's dead," Tizzy said.

"And?"

"I met her once," she continued. "At an Order meeting. And she was, I don't know, I didn't like her all that much," she warmed. She wasn't sure where this was going, but Eileen Prince was surprisingly gently now, when she apparently had Tizzy where she wanted her. "Why?"

"So I'm sure you also know that Severus knew her well?"

Oh well – there it came.

"I know they were friends."

"Mh. Yes. The Evanses lived close by to where we used to live. I didn't know them all that well, they were decent people, I suppose but did not truly belong to the neighbourhood."

"Why are you telling me this?" Tizzy asked, frowning.

"My son fell in love with Lily Evans back when he was just a boy. I don't know, probably from the time they went to Hogwarts together. It's just recently come to my attention why they stopped being friends and why Severus could never pursue her the way he had probably wanted."

Tizzy nodded. "I suspected as much."

Again, Eileen shook her head. "You don't suspect enough. In fifth year, he apparently called her a bad word out of whatever reason and Lily could not forgive him. I don't know why but she didn't. But my son did not, in turn, apparently, fall out of love with her. Or he did and just recently fell back in love with her. Or maybe he just loves her as a friend, I am unsure. However, his feelings for her run very deep and I've been told that she was the one of the reasons, maybe the main reason, for him turning away from you-know-who, because she was in danger. He, er, he loves her, Tizzy."

Her eyes were wide – her jaw slack, her hands trembling, and she understood. Had needed a compensation shag. He hadn't wanted her – he had wanted that woman. That woman that had spoken so badly of him. He had wanted her and because he now had lost every chance of ever doing so – her – and because she had been there, he had used her. Had probably imagined her to be Lily Potter. She hadn't been discarded like a cheap whore – she had been used like one from the beginning. Had been -

She made a strangled noise.

All this time. She thought that she might have a chance. And there he was – mooning after someone else. Wanting someone else. She had never stood a chance. And she never would. Loved a dead woman. Had only been shagged her because – –

"I have to go," she choked and turned away to run – but at the last moment, she turned her head once more. "Why did you tell me that?"

Eileen Prince smiled sadly. "Because now I understand, I think."

"What do you understand? That your son used me? Used me like a..." Tisiphone shook her head – and ran. She just ran until her lungs burned and until she stumbled and fell over the root of a tree and landed on her front,her wrist banging against another root but ignoring the shooting pain, she hid her face in her arms and cried. Cried all those tears she hadn't been able to cry before.

xx

The Bloody Baron had not said much on why she should let Tisiphone Dumbledore in on what she had learned from him – but little by little, she began to understand. The girl was obviously in love with him – and judging by what she had just said – with what expression her face, her son had apparently done something he should not have done. Used the girl.

She shook her head and gathering her skirts together, she rushed up to the castle. She needed to confirm her suspicions, then, no matter if she wanted to let her closer again or not, have a serious word – or a few select serious words, with her son.

xx

Poppy was generally a kind-hearted woman. But what people forgot most of the time, was that she was also a smart witch. That she knew not only healing spells but sometimes had to put monitoring on people as well. Exclusively for their well-being, naturally. And after Tizzy had come to the Infirmary the day before, so haggard-looking, she had cast a silent diagnostic spell – and when that had come up with nothing, a monitoring one. And the same thing, she had done, quickly, before Eileen had dragged her out of the Infirmary just minutes ago. Well, yes, the Sorting Hat had, briefly, considered putting her into Slytherin but she had preferred Ravenclaw. Didn't stop her though from being a little cunning sometimes.

And she was glad she was, when it went off in her office. The girl was distressed – and in pain. Physically and probably emotionally as well.

Fortunately, the Infirmary was empty and she activated her bell (students knew to ring it if she wasn't there) and rushed out of the castle. Towards the Black Lake. She wasn't sure why she went there, but it was usually where Tizzy went when she wasn't well and a locator spell did the rest. And there she lay, curled in a ball on the cold ground, her knees pulled up to her chest, a hand cradling the other and encircling her knees. Poppy hurried to her side and sat down on the ground, a warming charm placed around the girl and herself and pulled her, gently and carefully up – made her put her head on her lap and Tizzy looked up – all red, cried out eyes and red nose, mucusy and looking quite cute. Even though Poppy knew she was far from alright.

Without saying anything, merely running a hand through her hair, she cast a diagnostic spell. "You've broken your wrist," she whispered.

"I – I – f-f-f-fell," she sobbed.

"And that's why you're crying, dear?" she looked down at her, smiling softly but with raised eyebrows, her head ever so slightly cocked.

"Y-y-yes."

"I don't believe you," she whispered. "I know something happened yesterday."

"H-h-h-he-who-mu-must-not-t-be-na-na-named vanished," she spoke the last girl quickly.

"And because you're a devoted Death Eater, you look pale and sad since that event?" she asked, slightly mockingly and at the same time, she raised her wand and with a quick flick – and a gasp from Tizzy, the girl's wrist was fixed again.

"Y-y-yes," she nodded.

"I believe many things, love. But not that. I won't force you to talk to me but have you considered that it might help?"

Tisiphone sat up, wiped her nose with her sleeve – then repeated the wiping on her eyes. "It might not," she said after a moment of silence.

"It might, it might not. But you won't know until you try," she smiled gently and took her hand. "I won't tell anyone, you do know that, don't you?"

Tizzy nodded. "I know that but..."

"I can see when something is bothering you. You can deny that there is anything or you can just say you can't tell me, or you can actually tell me. I've known you since before you were born. I've seen you grow up and seen you become the woman you are now. And you're not the person I know at the moment," she said wisely.

xx

Tisiphone let herself fall back into Poppy's lap, rested her head there and let the woman she had known all her life run her fingers through her hair.

"You should not leave the Infirmary alone like this," she said suddenly.

"It's fine. I set up the bell," Poppy said in that kind tone that almost always had compelled Tisiphone to tell her the truth. Tell her almost anything. When she had been in trouble with teachers at school or when she had been bad, or had a fight with Mum or Dad. It was a soothing, kind, lovely voice. The voice she trusted.

"I, erm, I don't know to tell you," she said slowly.

"Why don't you just start at the beginning, mh?"

"I can't do that. It's...I slept with Severus Snape and he only slept with me because he was mourning for that Lily person and he loves that Lily and he only needed someone he could pretend was her and then he threw me out as soon as he was done and I feel so cheap and bad and don't know if I can ever see him again and it was my own fault because I wanted it to and thought it would lovely with him and I didn't stop him, I wanted it too. And he," she stopped – fresh tears rolling from her eyes. "And I don't want anyone to think that he's to blame because it's just as much my fault but I can't help feeling bad about it and feeling so – used."

She heard Poppy sigh and felt her stroking her hair and cheek and forehead but for a minute after her explosion, she said nothing, just sat and provided some sort of closeness.

"You're in love with him, are you not?" she then asked but it didn't quite sound like a question.

"Yes," she blurted out. "Yes, and he probably doesn't even like me. He loves that dead Lily Potter and she hated him. He probably even pretended it was her and not me."

"Shhh, love. It's okay," the mediwitch whispered.

"I don't know what to do," Tizzy sobbed.

"My poor love."

"But don't tell anyone. I don't want him sacked for this or want his life made more difficult," she implored.

"I won't. Of course I won't. And we'll find a way to make you feel better. I promise."

xx

He sat and stared at the essays he had set. I couldn't focus. Of course he couldn't. He could stay. And he had treated Tizzy like a prostitute. Had needed the contact and when he had regained his senses, he had only pushed her away. So coldly.

The woman had been his friend and he had used her for his own well being. For his own comfort. And had just sent her away. How bloody damn stupid could a person be? He had a friend there, someone who stood by him – and he absolutely fucked it up in five bleeding minutes.

He should still go to Azkaban. For the absolute inability to do anything good in his life. Or worse, for keeping anything that was remotely good. And for all the other things.

He was extremely angry at himself – the sadness pushed back, so far pushed back that it only burned a little part at the back of head – or maybe froze it, he wasn't sure, and he sighed. It was the perfect sentiment for those essays and he dipped his quill deep into the red ink as he went, slowly, through it.

"Are you absolutely daft?" he suddenly heard and his head snapped up, a large drop of ink falling on the student's essay. Into his office stormed his mother, looking very angry – and he had never seen her so angry, so worked up.

"Do you intent to be an arse? Do you want to be your father? Because let me tell you, boy, you're on the best way to turn into him," she shouted and a heartbeat later – she was by his side and her hand flew on his cheek, burning.

_**xx**_

_**Thank you very much for reading and please don't forget to review!**_

_**(I got another two letters of rejection today – job hunt rather not going well – and I think this somewhat boring chapter might reflect it)**_


	32. Chapter 32

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**Thanks to itat88 for helping! Thanks dear!**_

_**xx**_

He sat and stared, dumbstruck. No, his mother had never struck him, it had always been his father's job. And there she stood, very angrily, and had slapped him. Had insulted him.

And he wasn't sure whether he should be angry, or merely confused or what he should feel. For the moment, he just wanted to go into bed, to take a dose, or a double dose, of Dreamless Sleep and slip into peaceful, deep slumber, forgetting again.

But she stood there and seemed to wait for an answer. An answer he could not give. What could he say? He had taken Tizzy. Had taken all that had been good about his life there at the castle and had thrown it away. And there was nothing more about that.

Maybe – he was turning into his father. Maybe he already had turned into his father.

"Severus!" his mother said sharply. "Say something!" She glared at him – the way he knew her. The way she had been glaring at her father when they had fought – back, back when Severus had been little.

"Say something? Say something? What do you want me to say? Maybe I already am like him, Mother. You don't know. You have absolutely no idea, Mother," he spat back without contemplating his words.

His eyes widened a fraction. This felt – good. Saying things out loud. Telling her what he thought.

"You had no right to come here, to tell me what is good and what is not. You had no right to come here in the first place. You pretending to care for me now? It's too late for that, Mother. It's been to late for the last fifteen years. Why do you care now? All of a sudden?"

She seemed to think for a moment. "Because I can now. Because I am here now and because I don't have to cower before the man that seemed to hate me because of my very being. Because I am free now to realise how miserably I treated my only child because I loved the wrong man. Because I am here now and because I want to. Because I love you Severus and because I can express that now. And because I don't want you to turn into your father. But if you treat Tisiphone that way, if you think you can sink now in any form of self-deprecation because of it or because of Lily Evans, you're on your best way."

He knew he paled. He knew he looked shocked, startled. He had no clue how she knew about all this – about Tizzy, about Lily. Tizzy and Lily.

"How do you know?" he asked – his voice hoarse, his throat tight. He had only told the Old Man – and had not told anyone about what had happened with Tizzy. Maybe the Old Man had talked. And Tizzy. Or Tizzy.

"Does it matter?" she asked – her hand, now, the same hand that had slapped him, was on his cheek, making him look up. The lines etched on her face showed – worry. It didn't matter. Nothing changed. Never got a straight answer out of her. It had always been that way.

"Go," he said and knew that his voice was much the same, if a little more threatening but she merely looked at him, sighed, still touched his cheek and he couldn't help it – that woman who had no right to call herself a mother had to go, had to leave, should not touch him – he slapped her hand away.

"GO!" he shouted and bolted upright. "Just go!"

"I will be back, Severus," she whispered but left – left him to be on his own. She walked away – quietly, and the door clicked softly into the lock, the essays were still on his desk but he knew he probably wouldn't be able to focus.

Severus Snape couldn't believe how spectacularly he had messed up his life and for a moment only, allowed his head to sink on his arms on the desk.

xx

Poppy had less to do during the following two weeks than she had in the years before. There were only students coming in with the odd little spell gone wrong, one exploded cauldron, a Quidditch injury. And she was glad for it. The pressure of war – it seemed, all of a sudden, off. Just off – no wounded witches or wizards to tend to any more and sometimes, Poppy thought that if she hadn't had Tizzy to care for, to worry about – and to teach – she would have probably gone absolutely insane with nothing to do.

On the other hand, Tizzy was a task all to herself. Tizzy needed her at this moment. Poor girl was suffering terribly and even Minerva had asked her. Wisely her and not her daughter. All she could say was that she was heartbroken. And the rest, she not told.

And in essence, that was it. Or that was all she knew herself. The girl had completely closed up again. Had not even mentioned it again. It was simple, though, to let her eat in the Infirmary, to let her come early, to let her leave when she knew the rest of the school was at dinner. Not that she ate much and Poppy had a sharp eye on her for this. She pushed her food more around her plate and if she continued that way, Poppy would have to force feed her. Or maybe slip a potion into her water. Anything. Anything to stop her from losing even more weight. Robes only hanging on her frame.

It couldn't go on like this forever – but Poppy was not someone to rush or interfere. And both of them were young – inexperienced. Not completely but quite and they would sort it out. Sooner or later.

She had not told Tizzy anything about Severus – not even what Minerva relayed to her. Poor sod only left the dungeons to go on rounds after curfew and even though Minerva truly itched to do something – and Eileen Prince looked rather sad and desperate as well – she cautioned her not to do something. Severus was looked after by a house elf who reported to her and that had to be enough for the time being.

xx

It was hard to stay away from everywhere she thought he could show up. It was very difficult, sometimes, not to join Mum for lunch or dinner. But she couldn't possibly face Severus. And Poppy had understood that. For the past two weeks, since it had happened, two weeks free of he-who-must-not-be-named, two weeks since she had well – they had sex. Two weeks since she had last seen him. Not even a glimpse.

Poppy understood. Poppy let her stay at the Hospital Wing, and Poppy always had a task for her. Poppy had probably even explained Mum what was going on – or a little of what had happened. And well, Mum was smart. She had probably figured it out by now that Severus was the reason she wasn't feeling as well, as happy, as content as she had before. But both women let her be. Mum only sometimes looked at her worriedly – and she knew Dad was very worried.

She just needed a bit more time and then she would be absolutely fine again. Just a bit more time away from him, focusing on her work and learning more healing spells. It would have been nice, she thought once in a while, to have Severus teach her healing potions as well but it would probably never be.

Oh – no mistake, she missed him. She knew she was still somewhat in love with him. That was why it hurt. But the pain, she knew, would become bearable eventually. And then she would be able to see him again, and only then, could she get over him. She hoped.

xx

House elves were rather forthcoming creatures. There was one in particular, Clacky, who came in every morning with breakfast, with a sandwich for lunch, a decent, warm meal for dinner – and a cup of tea afterwards. The elf always glared at him with her ears hanging low when he asked for a spot of firewhiskey in his tea – and oddly enough, that glare always stopped him. Or maybe there was house elf magic involved. He wasn't sure which.

But she was very friendly, and she brought him everything he ever needed. And that way, he only left the dungeons, or basically, the laboratory, the classroom, the office or his quarters, only when he had to do the rounds after curfew. The Old Man never called for him. And as for the rest, he did not want to see the rest of the people at Hogwarts.

Or maybe – well.

He was sure that he had no longing, at the moment, to see his mother. And he wasn't sure she was even at the castle any more. However, her words, during two long weeks, had had an effect on him. He did not, he knew that, want to be his father. He did not even want to be remotely like him.

For two weeks, he had wondered, in the silence of his rooms at night, how he could ever approach Tizzy again. She had helped him so much – he saw that now – and he somewhat – somewhat – missed her presence. Every day a little more. There wasn't much to his day. Getting up, classes, lunch , classes, grading, detentions, grading, preparing, bed.

But somehow, he had grown used to those conversations with Tizzy – maybe, he thought, it would take him as long to get used to not talking as it had taken him to actually talking to her. And that should be – soon.

He had not heard from other Death Eaters. He did not read the paper. He did nothing extra apart from the work for school. Did not even brew for himself. Or rather had not. He wanted to though – and since it was Sunday, he could. The grading had been done the day before, he was on top of his work for maybe the first time since he had started teaching and it would stop him from analysing as he stood over a cauldron full of Pepper Up Potion. It was the middle of November. It would be needed. And he could always send it up with the elf. Or maybe...no, that would only lead to analysing again.

Analysing, as he had done for long periods of time over the past few weeks, since the Dark Lords downfall and his act with Tizzy, how different she was from Lily. How different those _friendships_ had been. And how they were not.

One thing was a fact. It had not been beneath himself to crawl on his hands and knees before Lily to beg for her friendship. He had camped out before the portrait guarding Gryffindor tower. There, it had been clear that he only had to apologise. And here, now, an apology would not be enough. It would not be sufficient. He had done so much worse to Tizzy than to Lily. And he could not crawl back to her, did not dare to. He had been – worse than all the names he could call himself. And how to make that alright again, he did not know. He could not send a note apologising. It wouldn't be enough. It would be even be – terrible.

And worse, he did not know how she was, how she had reacted, whether she was fine. Whether she was alright at all. Or whether she still lay broken somewhere. He had not even been up to look after her, to see her, for just a moment. Look if she was alright. If he had not completely broken her spirit – broken her. He could never forgive himself that.

And he could not forgive himself that Lily was dead. That he had not done more. That he had not been able to protect her, even though he had tried most everything he could.

Had not been able to protect neither Lily nor Tizzy. Lily from the Dark Lord – and Tizzy from himself. And the second would have been so much – so much – simpler.

But today, with the Pepper Up Potion – if he didn't send it up with an the house elf – he could maybe, maybe even catch a glimpse. And see if she was doing fine. And then send an elf. When she was in. Couldn't possibly talk to her yet. Didn't know what to say.

Yes, he would do it that way. Finish the potion, then go up to the Infirmary. It was Sunday – so she was probably not even there. Good plan.

xx

Poppy wrapped an arm affectionately around her shoulder. "Are you sure you don't want to go with us? It's just an informal gathering to commemorate the fallen members of the Order of the Phoenix and of course especially James and Lily. And a healer from St Mungo's is on call, so we can leave."

Tisiphone shook her head. She didn't want to go. It wasn't only the fact that she didn't much feel like seeing people – but it would be hypocritical of her to go too. She had not known anyone. Not really. And her opinion of Lily Potter – and James Potter for that matter – was not the best.

Severus had never hurt her the way she had said he would. It had been partly her own mistake. What was a man to do if a woman threw herself at him in times of need? No, she should have known that someone like Severus could never love her – but even so – he should have been allowed to mourn her. To being able to go to an 'informal gathering to commemorate' her. And he wasn't allowed.

"Lily was a lovely girl," Poppy said pensively. "You only met her once, didn't you?"

Tisiphone jerked her head in what could be construed as an almost nod. If Lily hadn't hated Severus as much, if that hadn't gone downhill – everything could have been different. Not only between her and him. But everything could have been different for him too.

And suddenly, anger flared up at her. A fierce protectiveness of Severus from that woman. Severus who had risked his life for her. Who had loved her and she had just thrown it away. Oh, she had pieced it together from what she had known. And the Bloody Baron had filled in the blanks one night when she couldn't sleep. She wasn't entirely stupid. She had destroyed his chance at a happy future. And her own chance with him – simply because he couldn't possibly get over a dead woman on a pedestal.

Her hurt, all of the pain she had felt because of him – it suddenly evaporated into horrible anger at Lily Potter.

"Lily Potter was not a lovely girl," she suddenly spat. "Didn't you hear what she said about Severus at that meeting?"

"I heard her, Tizzy. But apart from the issue with Severus, she really was a lovel..."

"She hated him. He made one tiny mistake. Called her one name. Granted, it is a horrible name but it is only name-calling. And she suddenly, suddenly, she hates him. Did you hear that she told me to stay far far away? Did you see her eyes when she said that? When Alb said that he was coming to teach? I have never seen anyone's eyes so cold. She was horrible towards him. She hated him and he risked his life for her. He came to our side because of her. To protect her and she answers this with hatred towards him. Not okay, Poppy, not okay. Don't tell me someone like this is a lovely girl."

"How do you know all this?" Poppy asked – very quietly.

"The Bloody Baron. He came to talk to me a few nights ago. He knew. I asked," she replied huffily. "That woman was not lovely. She was not lovely at all. She pushed him towards you-know-who and she denied him friendship. She could have protected him. I don't want to go there and hear everyone say what a lovely woman she was. She made me unhappy."

Poppy sighed. "She did not treat him well after that incident, yes, but..."

"But she couldn't forgive him and that is not what friends do!" she cried.

Poppy arched her eyebrows. "Well, my love, I have to go," she kissed her cheek, then pierced her for a moment. "Could you forgive him?"

xx

Lily. Tizzy talking about Lily.

"She hated him. He made one tiny mistake. Called her one name. Granted, it is a horrible name but it is only name-calling. And she suddenly, suddenly, she hates him. Did you hear that she told me to stay far far away? Did you see her eyes when she said that? When Alb said that he was coming to teach? I have never seen anyone's eyes so cold. She was horrible towards him. She hated him and he risked his life for her. He came to our side because of her. To protect her and she answers this with hatred towards him. Not okay, Poppy, not okay. Don't tell me someone like this is a lovely girl," he heard from inside the Infirmary, loud voice.

And he couldn't believe what he was hearing. And the mediwitch confirmed all this. He didn't doubt Poppy Pomfrey. He didn't doubt any of the words Tizzy was saying. Anything that he overheard.

And it opened his eyes. Quite suddenly.

Lily had despised him. Absolutely loathed him. He couldn't help himself – he cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself and pressed himself closer to the door that was slightly ajar – thoughts going round and round in his head.

Lily had despised him.

He had loved a woman that had loathed him.

All this time.

"But she couldn't forgive him and that is not what friends do!"Tizzy cried from inside.

There was a moment's silence, the Madam Pomfrey spoke, pensively "Well, my love, I have to go," there was a pause "Could you forgive him?"

"Yes," Tizzy said, very softly. "I could forgive him."

His breathing caught in his throat – he needed fresh air.

xx

"He was my friend before this happened. He trusted me, he talked to me. And yes, he hurt me. But it wasn't only his fault. If he apologised and he'd mean it, I would. Probably."

Poppy hugged her tightly. "Yes, you would. But you're still in love with him. She never was. There's a big difference, my girl."

Tisiphone nodded. "Maybe. You said there's someone from St Mungo's on call?" she asked and upon the mediwitch's nod, she continued, "so I can go outside for a while? I need some fresh air, I think."

"Yes, you do that. And eat later. Or I'll have to give you a potion. Can't have you losing more weight."

Tisiphone, quickly after that, left the Infirmary with her Poppy but while the older woman joined her Mum and her Uncle Alb to apparate away, she went the other way, towards the Lake, breathing the crisp air deeply into her lungs. It almost smelled like it was about to snow soon. Last time she had been out there, she had fallen and broken her wrist and had cried and cried and cried.

She missed Severus in her life. Despite what he had done. Despite how much it hurt still. Despite everything, she missed him and his humour that reared its not so ugly head at the strangest moments. She would forgive him. Yes. But she would not run after him. Not yet anyway.

She had been used. That was a fact. But she had used him too. In a way. She wanted to have sex with him. It had happened – and not the way she had hoped it would be.

No. She would forgive him. But he would remain her friend. They'd be friends. Not good friends. Not best friends – mere friends. More, she couldn't offer. And she would stay far away. At least an arm's length.

Tisiphone looked out onto the Lake, Squiddy waving, and once more, missed that there was a root on the ground. A root, she stumbled over. She prepared herself for the fall, a tiny shriek escaping her lips – when suddenly, two arms lifted her up – stopped her fall and she looked up at – Severus.

Not good. So not good. His eyes were – beautiful. And his lank hair cried out for her to be swept from his face by her fingers. And the expression on his face – hurt and sorry and something, something odd. Pleading, almost.

Couldn't let this happen. Couldn't let herself be drawn in by him again. Friends. Yes. Nothing more.

She scrambled out of his arms and stood upright, straightened her robes and nodded. "Thank you, Severus," she said and her voice came out too soft, too cracked, too...everything.

"Hello Tizzy," he whispered.

_**xx**_

_**Thank you for reading and please don't forget to review!**_

_**I know the middle parts are a bit blah but I find passing of time always difficult to write...if anyone has any suggestions how to make it better, please let me know!**_


	33. Chapter 33

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

Lily had loathed him. Lily had hated him. That had not changed until her death.

It was a fact. And all the things he had done for her – had not changed her mind. Not that she had known that it had been his fault that she was in danger in the first place. Not that she had known that he had done everything in his power to keep her safe.

And Lily had died hating him.

This girl there – standing in front of him, smiling a little insecurely – he had hurt her so much more, and she could still look at him, and even though she had scrambled out of his arms, she had not run. She was still there. Smiling. Albeit insecurely. Her fingers wrestling with each other in front of her stomach.

Oh but she was horribly thin.

A sudden realisation hit him – out of nowhere – out of his own depths: quite suddenly, Severus knew why she had been like this at the very beginning when he had returned to Hogwarts. Why she had felt the constant need to ask him whether he had eaten. He wanted to ask the same thing now. The very same thing and more, he wanted to sit down with her and make sure that she was eating properly.

Just the way she had done with him.

Just the same way.

And she was pale. Her hair was pulled back tightly, almost like her mother's and there were dark rings around her eyes. She was thin and looked miserable. She smiled, yes, and the smile did reach her eyes, but it wasn't strong enough to light up her face. It pained him to see it – especially since he knew it was his fault. He had turned that strong, vivacious, happy young woman into the pale, drawn person standing there.

His fault. Another one. Another epic mistake he had made to add to his list. And it was so important to make her happy again. Or see a smile. A real smile. He didn't know why it was so important. He didn't know why he had to do this, why he wanted to make her eat. He could only suspect – and that suspicion – it almost overwhelmed him.

She had been his friend. And because he had not been used to any kind of real friendship since his childhood and early teenage years, he had messed it up spectacularly. He had driven his friend away – and that gave him a cold feeling in his chest. A horribly cold, empty feeling. He did remember the warmth she had given him – by just being near. And then he had needed more and more and that had led to this coldness again.

Severus knew that he stared at her. But there was nothing he could do, really. He didn't know what to say to her to make it well again, what to do. A mere 'I'm sorry' would not suffice. And a long litany of all the grave mistakes he had made would not do either. He was completely out of his depths.

Couldn't ask her how she had been – he could see that. Couldn't ask anything. He could only stand and stare.

xx

She was incredibly nervous to stand in front of him like this, with his dark beautiful eyes fixed on hers. She couldn't help the wringing of her hands and she could not help staring back either.

And he didn't say anything. He just stood and looked as if he was scared. Severus Snape was scared. Scared of her? That couldn't be. Why would he? She was nothing to be afraid of.

But at the same time, she couldn't think of anything to say. 'How've you been' sounded exceptionally stupid in a situation like this. They had slept together, and they had parted not too well. And she had not seen him since. What could she possibly say? 'I miss you, Severus'? Definitely not. Well, she did, and from the way he looked at her, from the way is hand had lingered a moment at her waist when she had escaped his arms, he felt something as well. Friends. Friends she could do. Another heartbreak like this, she couldn't. And he wasn't ready, probably. Or didn't like her like this.

She was fully aware that the same things had been going on around her head for a while now. Couldn't stop the thoughts.

And couldn't stop staring. Merlin but his eyes _were_ truly beautiful. They had been standing there for an eternity, she knew. She heard faintly the splashing of Squiddy in the Lake and the fallen leaves on the ground being moved gently by the breeze. The smell of approaching snow was stronger now and it overlay his scent that lingered in her nose.

She couldn't do this. She had to leave. Couldn't just stand there staring in his eyes for hours. Well...no. Had to leave.

Tisiphone cleared her throat and somehow, that broke that spell that had befallen them, there, standing there, staring. He cleared his throat a moment later, and while he still looked at her, his eyes did not have the same intensity, not the same depth.

"I, er," she said slowly, softly, "I have to go back up at the Infirmary. Poppy is out and there's nobody up in case a student...well, hurts himself or herself." She smiled and tried to make it a bit broader, more honest this time.

"Tizzy," he said quickly – and seemed to want to take her hand or her arm but he stopped himself, his hand hovering mid-air. And this voice – it was – different. He usually spoke little – and if, very calmly, very quietly, very controlled. This – Tizzy – it wasn't. And since when did he call her Tizzy? A little blossom of hope – like a fragile white flower – opened in her chest, spreading warmth throughout her body and her smile was genuine when she looked in his face. He did not want her to go. Or something like it.

"Yes?" she asked and she stepped a little closer again. She had not wanted to sound so hopeful. And she didn't want to feel this. She wanted to be a friend to him. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a friend. A mate. She blinked twice, swallowed, and inside, squashed, as good as she could, the little blossom of hope, that fragile white flower.

xx

Oh. Oh that smile alone warmed his heart. A tiny little flame in his middle. Spreading slowly. And she stepped closer and again, words failed him.

Words never failed him as every student by now could attest. Every single student knew that he always found the right words, that he could reduce someone to tears (it had happened only twice so far, two Hufflepuff girls) by merely talking. But in this moment – he had no idea.

Maybe, he thought, he shouldn't think so much about what to say. Maybe, he ought to speak. And not overthink.

"I'm...," he began and cold panic seized him. She'd run. He'd say it and she'd either run or laugh.

"Yes?" she asked softly.

"I'm sorry," he blurted and the not thinking had obviously worked. "I'm sorry for what happened." He bit the inside of his cheek and couldn't look at her. His eyes were drawn to the ground, to his shoes and he only heard Tizzy sigh softly.

xx

Well. That was a beginning. He was sorry. And the way he looked – no – she did not doubt his honesty for one second. She smiled and though a bit trampled, she couldn't help the blossom for blooming. Blossoming. No matter which. She couldn't stop it. She wanted to. She didn't want to feel this, she didn't want to want to hug him again and kiss him.

Because, well, he kissed rather well. Despite everything.

No. She had to be sensible. Sensible. Sensible. Friends. Sensible friends.

"Severus?" she asked and her tone was incredibly gentle – too gentle. Friends. Sensible. "I really have to go up now but maybe I'll see you at dinner in the Great Hall," she added and her tone was a thousand times more sensible now.

He looked up in that moment and into her eyes and she couldn't stop the smile on her face before she waved. She had to get inside before she did anything stupid. Had to gather her wits. Had to stop looking at him. Otherwise her plan with becoming friends would never ever work.

"See you," she said and because she really had to get away, she rushed towards the castle.

xx

"You should haff given him ze chance to say good bye like zis and let people know zat he was on our side," Lasse hissed, then, without waiting for an answer, he rushed off to the opposite direction, making Minerva, well, smirk.

"Lover's spat?" she asked her brother-in-law mockingly but it seemed true – too true – as Albus merely shook his head, a little arrogantly exasperatedly, and vanished as well. "Oh dear," she said to Poppy, but couldn't stop the grin.

"Minerva, Minerva," the mediwitch grinned and seemed years younger through that grin. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

"I love to wind him up, yes," she grinned back, then sighed. "It felt good to have this ceremony though. But we should have told them about Severus."

"It did feel good. Tizzy really should have come with us. And whenever Albus decides to tell the Order about Severus, he should take her. She would defend the poor lad and nobody would doubt her words."

"Hmph," Minerva sighed again. "He broke her heart and she still defends him. Sometimes, I don't think she's my daughter at all."

"She is your daughter and you know it. But she feels strongly about him still. It will take a while."

"Aye, I know," Minerva said softly. "But I hate to see her feeling so bad and not being able to do anything about it."

"Me too. Trust me, me too. I miss the old Tizzy. The happy girl. And I don't mean before the heartbreak but the girl who knew nothing about the war and always laughed and smiled."

"They grow up so fast. I remember Severus as a student. And of course James and Lily and Sirius and Peter. And now they're all supposedly grown up and seen horrible things and fighting and dying and," she trailed off, shaking her head. "It's a generation that will be scarred by this war."

Poppy nodded silently and both women walked, contemplating, towards the Great Hall. It made no sense to go anywhere else before dinner was about to start. They had been away for a while, having tea and biscuits at headquarters. Had talked about the victims – had been cautioned about rogue Death Eaters, especially the Lestranges. Had all taken a while but it had been good, Minerva thought. Despite everything, despite the destruction of the innocence of one entire generation. Including her girl's.

"Hey Mum! Hey Poppy!" her poor, heartbroken girl sounded from behind him – and did not sound heartbroken at all any more.

"Oh dear," Minerva muttered only for Poppy to hear. "Want a wager what happened?"

Poppy nodded, but before she could say something, her daughter had caught up with them and pressed between them. "How was it?" she asked, not laughing but smiling. Wearing her old smile again and Minerva, inwardly, groaned. She would win that wager.

"It was fine, Tizzy," Poppy replied. "Would you run ahead and make sure that the house elves put something stronger in our goblets?"

"Okay," Tizzy smiled, her eyes gleaming and rushed off.

"2 Galleons say that she met Severus Snape and that he said hello and that he will be back in the Great Hall for dinner."

Poppy frowned. "2 Galleons that he apologised."

"Severus Snape? Never. And what for? For not wanting her?"

Poppy smiled a little mysteriously and it made Minerva ever so slightly angry. "What do you know that I don't?"

"Nothing, dear, absolutely nothing."

xx

Tizzy could only do so much to stop her from tapping her fingers against the wooden table. Yes, she was early and apart from Mum and Poppy, there were only a few Ravenclaws scattered around. But he wouldn't show up and she could smash that blossom again. It never, never, never paid to have too much hope. She had learned that too hard during the last couple of weeks.

No. No, it would be fine. He wouldn't come, she'd eat a bit, as much as would go down anyway and then she'd go back to reading her theoretical Healing texts and it would be fine. Just fine.

"Hello Tizzy," she suddenly heard softly next to her and her eyes widened. She turned her head and there he sat. Already. Next to her. In all his black-clad glory. Severus. Had. Come.

"Hello Severus," she greeted back, just as softly, and smiled.

_**xx **_

_**Thank you for reading and please don't forget to review!**_


	34. Chapter 34

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx **_

Severus sat in his office, a minute smile playing on the corners of his mouth. This was – it was – Tizzy was – wonderful. Well, maybe not that but rather lovely. There hadn't been any leaps in the past week or one and a half weeks rather, but she was at every meal, and he was at every meal and they talked a little. They had not really met alone and Tizzy had never again come down to his lab but it was okay. Maybe, she would still have to overcome a sort of fear of him and he understood that. But really, for the time being, this was alright, it was enough. The fact that he could see whether she was eating enough (and he suspected she paid attention if he ate enough), the fact that she smiled and talked to him, it could sustain him. It was very alright.

And since Hogwarts was now all snowed in, and it looked rather nice outside, he would, maybe, soon ask her to take a walk with him. Wanted to spend time with her. Didn't necessarily have to be as anything more than friends. And really, she had been exceptionally graceful. She had accepted his apology, just like that, and while she still kept her distance, was not as touchy-feely as she had been before that, well, incident, it was almost as if nothing had ever happened.

Almost.

All truth be told, it had begun to sink in. All of it. The Dark Lord was gone, his Dark Mark faded, no more summons, just sleep and rounds at night, nothing more. Lily was gone, yes. It was sometimes, when he thought about it, a dull ache in his chest.

It was as if he had fantasised constantly about a life lived with her. For that, she was too far away, she had already been too far away by the time he had been old enough to consider marriage and children and everything. But by then, he already loved her deeply. From afar. Would wait sometimes after class to catch of glimpse at her, would sit strategically perfect to observe her during meals. For such a long time. Some moments during the nights, when he had until then withstood taking Dreamless Sleep, he thought about Lily and Tizzy and in some of those moments, he almost felt as if he was betraying Lily by liking Tizzy so much. And in other moments, he realised sharply (and the dull ache turned into a stabbing then) that Lily had not loved him. At least not for a long time. She had not even liked him. He could have never been able to sit and talk with her the way he did with Tizzy. And Tizzy had forgiven him. Something Lily had never found in her heart to do – and he had truly made a bigger effort with Lily.

Tizzy was just – different. Maybe not a kinder person in total, maybe not more adored, with a temper that could match her mother's and stern lines on her face when she disagreed with something but there was a kind of warmth in her that Lily had never possessed. Something that wasn't visible on the outside, not there for everyone and she could be just as forbidding towards people as Lily had been towards him, but it was there when she spoke to him and when she smiled at him.

Tizzy always asked how he was, how his day at been, how many detentions he had handed out, how many points he had docked, what potions he had let his students brew. She was interested in what he did. And that had stopped in Lily's case long before their fifth year. That had stopped when he had been sorted into Slytherin. Tizzy could only grin at the House rivalry. Could only smirk upon the clear distinction. Laughed openly about it, even. She earned glares for it, yes, but she would always state that everyone had a little bit of everything inside. And that a Hufflepuff could be smart and loyal – just as a Gryffindor could be brave and cunning. Tizzy disliked all kinds of drawers, and being put into one. And Lily had been Gryffindor pride personified.

So many differences. He daren't judge who was better, who was worse. But Lily was dead. And Tizzy not a second best at all.

'I like her,' he thought in his office over a stack of essays that needed to be corrected. And that was it, he liked her. End of story.

There was a sudden knock on the door and Severus groaned. Could only be another student who thought he could improve his grade by sucking up to him. Would not work. Had so far never worked – and yet, there was always a sixth or seventh year girl who had shortened her skirt magically and seemed to think she could sway him. Bints received detention for trying only. And not with him either. Usually send them with their skimpy skirts right to Argus Filch the caretaker. But in those moments, he could not help but remember Tizzy's thighs and their short, very short, intermezzo and with both shame and a sort of constricting longing in his chest, he thought about her and her thighs and everything else about her. Thought about the fact that he had had that woman right there and had been a complete and utter arse to her. And she still talked to him. Sometimes, he thought that he just wanted to do it right. For him and for her.

But he doubted he would ever get the chance again. Or let himself have the chance again. Friends – that's what they were now.

"Come in," he said grumblingly and the door opened. No short skirt this time. Rather long, black robes. And the face was not that of a female student. No. His mother. Had caught glimpses of her occasionally, wandering through the castle together with, funnily enough, the Bloody Baron. Never talked to her. This was – well, it was another thing he had messed up. Royally, supremely messed up. But on the other hand, he simply couldn't forget his childhood and what it had been like to see her so helpless and devoid of any emotion apart from when she had been fighting with his father. But she had made the first step towards him. And had told her the truth for sure when she had said that she loved him.

And now, she looked at him with a smile on her face and he remembered that smile from his childhood. It was sad and small.

"I came to say good bye," she said softly.

xx

She had talked for long hours about this. The Bloody Baron had been a great help and she knew, eventually, that she had to leave. It made no sense to stay at the castle, doing nothing, waiting for any little sign that Severus wanted something to do with her any more. Leaving, going back home, that was the best possibility. The only one, actually.

He knew where she lived. She had not moved, she would not move. Spinner's End was her home and she would stay there until she died. And if he wanted contact, he knew where to find her. She gave up even though the Baron had said it wasn't giving up – it was seeing when it made no sense in keeping on fighting for the time being.

He sat there in his office and he almost looked as if he was close to smiling. Oh, she did not doubt that Tizzy Dumbledore would take brilliant care of him. That was a good girl and would make a wonderful girlfriend or wife for Severus.

She smiled at him and wished – oh so wished – that she could just hug him and tell him that she loved him and that he should go after Tizzy the way the girl deserved to be gone after and the way he should have treated her even before that horrible incident. He was on a good way, she knew that from the Baron.

"I came to say good bye," she said as gently as she could.

He looked up at her, questioningly. At least he seemed to look that way.

"I'm going back home."

He raised an eyebrow and her smile broadened. That, Severus had inherited from her. Her boy. It did not make it simpler for her. Him sitting there and arching an eyebrow and that look in his eyes. As if he knew that he had done something wrong. Still, she had tried. There was nothing more she could do, as the Bloody Baron had agreed with her, at this moment.

"It's time, Severus."

After a moment, a long moment, he nodded slowly and remained silent.

She looked at him and felt the longing bursting in her chest. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she couldn't remember the last time she had cried in front of someone who was not a ghost. Had shown that much emotion in front of someone who was not a ghost and she couldn't contain herself any more. "I hated to see you so broken and I could only do so much. I wanted to heal you better with that gash on the hip and when you were so out of it, I truly wanted to help you. I don't know how, Severus. I just tried and I failed as a mother. Now and back then. But you're my son, my boy and I just want to...," she wiped at her cheeks furiously and clapped her hand in front of her mouth before she merely shook her head, walked around his desk in long strides and before he could protest or run away, she had enfolded him in her arms, had his head pressed against her chest and put her head on top of his. Just a moment, holding her boy while he was completely conscious. While he could completely understand.

She sobbed once, swallowed the rest of the sobs down, kissed his head, and wanted to leave. As quickly as possible.

xx

He found himself lodged against his mother and her words kept on repeating in his head. It had been her? Her that had healed him, her that had held him? It had been his mother. Nobody else. Not Tizzy, no house elf. Her. Her that had shown that she cared and had not only used words. It blew his mind.

And his mind whirred from her words and from the scent that was his mother. Before he could do anything (and not that he knew what he should do – could do), she had kissed the top of his head gently and was on her way to the door. Away.

It had been her. She had healed him and she had hugged him during that time when he needed someone.

Mother.

He frowned and just as she was about to open the door, he found his voice. "Mother?" he asked and it came out just as neutral as he had wanted it to sound.

She turned, her face tear-stained and the smile gone. "Yes?" she whispered.

"I,erm, might come over on a Sunday to get some books that are still there," he said quickly and was astonished. She smiled, her eyes lit up and she only nodded.

His mother looked happy. He had made his mother look happy.

xx

Tizzy sighed and put her hand gently on his. He was only pushing his food around his plate and had not eaten one bit during that dinner.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly.

"What?" he asked back, clearly pulled out of his thoughts by her hand on his and her question.

"What's wrong?" she asked again. "You seem absent."

He looked at her, obviously considering what he could tell her and what he should and she could not figure it out at all. What bothered him, what kept his mind occupied.

"My mother left," he said after a moment's hesitation. "She went back home."

"Yeah, she said good bye to Poppy and me and invited me to come visit her.. But that was three days ago. And you didn't want her to leave?"

"She left three days ago." He sighed very, very softly as his eyes swept across the Great Hall, then the Head Table, then held her own gaze. "I don't know," he said softly.

"You can go visit her, can't you?" she asked softly and understood. He had pushed her away and pushed her away but she had always been at the castle. Almost ever since he had been there as well. And even though they had not talked, she had been there.

He nodded and she squeezed his hand. "You maybe should. Could give you a chance to, you know, talk outside of this castle. Out of earshot from portraits and ghosts and Peeves."

He nodded again and she felt him squeeze her hand back. Tizzy smiled at him. "I'd ask you to go outside and take a walk after dinner but Poppy asked me to stay in the Infirmary. She and Mum have a kind of girls' night in. Their words, not mine," she rolled her eyes. "Dad already fled the scene and I am sort of glad that I can keep watch in the Infirmary. I wonder though if they invited Alb and Lasse," she winked and he could see the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.

"I have work to do," he said gently, apologetically.

"Can we, erm, maybe, do it tomorrow night?" she asked, and she knew she should pull her hand away. And should not squeeze, but somehow, he squeezed back and she watched their hands. She watched how he slowly lifted his and let hers fall on the table before he covered hers with his again, every single one of his fingers resting between two of hers. She watched, in utter fascination, how his fingers rubbed hers and there was this dull throbbing in the deep pit of her stomach. Wonderful feeling and she knew she was blushing and only hoped that nobody noticed.

xx

She was very pretty, beautiful, when she blushed and he could not explain, not even to himself, what had made him act this way, hold her hand that way. He didn't understand and for the first time in his life, did not want to think about why he didn't understand.

Her hands were warm and soft and this little contact alone made the entire thoughtfulness, lasting for the last three days since his Mother had left, go away. It made a bit more coldness inside go away. Only this. He looked at her, and she smiled at him, her cheeks wonderfully pink and he wanted to just, well, hug her. Didn't know why. Didn't want to know why. It was just there. He was drawn to her.

And she did not flinch away. No. She even rubbed her fingers against his and it, well, he was a man. He felt this in other parts of his body as well and he was glad he was wearing the frock coat and the robes. He just smiled and their hands remained together on the table, fingers rubbing against other fingers, and somehow, that was enough at the moment. It was a wonderful contact to her, and the entire Great Hall seemed to fade to a blur and all he felt was her warm fingers and her warm hand.

xx

She sat in the Infirmary at Poppy's desk and knew that she looked utterly ridiculous with that silly grin on her face. He had held her hand. In front of everyone. Not that anyone had noticed. At least nobody had grinned slyly, nobody had made a comment and she had the niggling feeling at the back of her head that Severus had thrown a charm over them. So nobody could see their hands. But maybe she was wrong. She was glad though that Mum had not seen it. In all her giddiness (oh she really disliked giddy Mum. And no, it didn't happen often, thank Merlin), she would have reprimanded Tizzy probably and she would have been the victim of hours of interrogation. And that was something she did not want. Not now.

Now, she just wanted to sit and stare into thin air and remember his hand on hers and around hers. Tizzy sighed softly and sniffed at her hand. It smelled like him, too.

"Oh, stop it for heaven's sake," she muttered to herself, pulling her hand away and reminding herself that she only wanted to be friends. Only friends. And those feelings in her stomach were more than bloody friendly.

She forgot all about Severus and this more than friendly feeling when there was a faint alarm going off. It was odd, since students would usually only stumble in and there was no alarm. She had never heard it before and Poppy had not told her but it sounded odd. Tizzy took her wand, and a spell on her lips, she left the office and stepped into the Infirmary. Nobody.

This couldn't be some sort of trap, could it? She was all alone in the Infirmary but Hogwarts was safe. She knew that every Order member had some sort of Emergency portkey to there but they could only be used by them themselves. Alb was smart like that.

She was about to turn around again, when there was a thump – a thump followed by screams. Screams like she had never heard them before. It was feral, it was like animals that were deadly wounded. Loud and angry and high-pitched. She wanted to do nothing else but cover her ears and run but something made her turn and she had to fight hard to keep her dinner where it belonged.

Two people, no, two mangled bodies, writhing on the ground. Could be two women, or two men, or one each, she wasn't sure. She couldn't tell from the bodies, she couldn't tell from the screams that were deafening and horrible. And it was – she wanted to shut off her mind and didn't want to see this.

"Poppy!" she screamed herself. Was completely overwhelmed. This was too much. But Poppy wasn't there.

"Fuck," she swore loudly, and the screams didn't lessen. She had to do something. "Come on, Tizzy, do something," she told herself. "Beds. Potion. Poppy. Fawkes!" she cried. "Fawkes, come on, I need you to get Poppy and Alb. Someone," she begged and moved closer to those two screaming bodies. There couldn't be any air left in their lungs. There couldn't.

"Come on, you have to...I can't move you like that," she muttered and Fawkes, suddenly, sat on her shoulder. "Go to Poppy. I can't do this. I don't know what it is," she cried in full blown panic and the bird took off immediately. There was another faint noise to be heard over the screams and she looked around, breathing hard, not knowing if any of the air ever reached her own lungs and there stood a large, massive, huge, bear-patronus and it spoke in Alastor Moody's voice.

"They were hit massive Cruciatuses. We caught them. More later," it said in a gruff voice.

"Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin," she muttered and her hands were shaking. "I don't know what to do. Poppy, come on. Potion. Don't know what Potion. Stop screaming," she screamed herself, absolutely panic-stricken and terrified and she barely noticed that she had begun to cry. "Come on. Come on," she rocked herself on her knees, sitting between those bodies, writhing and in obvious pain and a moment later, the door burst open.

She turned around and saw Poppy moving her mouth, Mum behind her and Alb following with Lasse and Fawkes a moment later but she didn't hear any of them. There were only screams and screams and screams.

"Poppy!" she shouted herself. "I don't know what to do."

She was by her side in a moment, and the other three followed her and she was held up by Lasse or Mum, she wasn't sure and the screams lessened and she could only whisper. "Massive Cruciatuses. Moody caught them. More later," she told the person holding her up.

"Yes, ve know," the person said and it was probably Lasse and suddenly, she didn't hear the screams any more. "You need to get out of heer," he said gently.

xx

"Severus Snape," the ghost, bursting into his office said and it sounded, he sounded, well, agitated. Had never seen the ghost so agitated.

"What happened?" he asked immediately.

"You have to go up towards the Infirmary. You're needed. Very much needed. Go!" the ghost shouted and Severus didn't hesitate a moment. Tizzy. Something had happened to Tizzy.

He rushed upwards and upwards and upwards and cursed the stairways for moving. It couldn't be that he lost another person he liked so much. Two people stumbled towards him – just in front of the Infirmary, just outside of it and he heard faint screams from inside and he felt blinded by panic upon thinking that Tizzy was the one screaming but then he paid closer attention to the two people. One of them was the Old Man's Swedish bloke and the other was – Tizzy.

"Severus," she seemed to see him at the same moment and he couldn't hold back the sigh of relief. He couldn't say anything but he rushed towards her and she ignored the Swedish man and ran towards him, tears in fat rivers running down her cheeks and he didn't think, just opened his arms and she ran in.

Ran into his arms and wrapped her arms around his waist and he held her tight as she was crying and sobbing and trembling, her face deeply buried into his chest.

_**xx**_

_**Thank you for reading and please don't forget to review (I was extra quick as well, wasn't I?)**_


	35. Chapter 35

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx**_

He was her anchor. He held her and pressed her against him and she could feel him around her, sheltering, keeping the screams away, keeping the images in her head from spinning too fast. She couldn't help her crying and she couldn't help clutching him to her. His smell was so real, so strong and it kept her rooted on the spot and his hands on her back, rubbing such small circles, holding her.

He was there. Just there and she felt so limbless in his arms, her entire body going limp because of those screams she couldn't hear any more and her own helplessness. She had not known what to do, she had not been able to help. They had been sent to her, and she had not done anything. Had just been sent out like a little girl.

She looked up at Severus, tears like a veil in front of her eyes, trying to blink them away, see clearly. "I have to go back in," she said shakily.

He shook his head. "No," he said.

"But they need my help and I haven't been able to help them at all. They need my help," she tried to wriggle out of his arms, tried to break free of him. "Severus, please. I couldn't...I didn't..."

"Zey will be sent to St Mungo's Hospital, Tizzy," Lasse, who still stood there, interrupted. "I do not zink Poppy Pomfrey can do anysing eiser."

Severus looked into her eyes, searchingly but never let her go. Still held on to her. He shook his head again. "You did what you could."

She shook her head. "I didn't do anything. They just screamed and screamed and I did absolutely nothing." She knew her eyes were wide and she just banged her head against Severus's chest. There was nothing near by and he still held on to her. His chest was hard and lovely and much too good to bang her head against but she couldn't help herself. She had failed. Completely.

And there was a hand in her hair, pressing her head against the chest more fully and she stopped the struggle to bang and rested it there, the fingers in her hair. It was – strange for her to feel him like this, to realise that he could be very - tender. And there, then, she gave up. It was too late. She had not been able to help. It was too late.

"I should have contacted St Mungo's immediately," she whispered against his chest. "I could have done that at least."

"They will be fine," Severus's voice sounded against her chest, against her ear and it made her knees grow even weaker.

She nodded weakly and relied on him completely to keep up her weight, to keep her almost upright. She had, somehow, sagged against him, had completely shut her ears and her eyes and tried, just tried to keep his scent in her nose.

xx

"I zink you should take her somewhere to sit down," the Swedish man said gently and he noticed him having to hold up Tizzy. She had completely given up on standing on her own, held on to him only, her face deeply buried into the fabric of his frock coat.

"I will," he said solemnly, "but what happened? Who is it?"

"Cruciatus, zis Bellatrix Lestrange woman and some ozers. . Zey vere captured. And zose two are Frank and Alice Longbottom," he explained swiftly. "She did just ze right zing," he said, nodding at Tizzy. "You might vant to tell her zat."

Severus nodded again at the Swede who then turned and walked back into the Infirmary – which was completely silent and he held on tighter to Tizzy for a moment, almost squeezed her.

"Tizzy? We should get you home," he told her, softly – and would have already started on bringing her there but he had no idea which part of the castle the Dumbledore/McGonagall family lived in. He looked down at her, his nose brushing accidentally against her hair and even her forehead, just a little touch, and her eyes were closed. She gave no answer.

And he understood. He had only heard the screams of the Longbottoms (Aurors, if he wasn't mistaken) from outside the door and to be alone in there, being on one's own with no idea what to do – she was allowed to be shocked, overwhelmed. She was allowed to close her eyes and be with her thoughts for a moment, but standing there, in a cold corridor, only leaning against him, she shouldn't be doing.

He tried to walk a few paces, thinking he would have to take her to his quarters for the time being, let her rest there, but her knees buckled from underneath her and he stood no other chance, no other chance than to pick her up and carry her. One arm underneath her back, the other underneath the back of her knees and her head, her face, was pressed against his neck and she had to be aware of what was happening somehow, he knew, when her arms went around his neck.

She was light. Not as light as she looked but he carried her. And he couldn't explain at all what kind of feeling that evoked in him. Or rather – what feelings. He wanted to protect her, keep her from harm, hold her to him and make sure she was fine. Make her smile, somehow but keeping her close. Close to him and carrying her was just – wonderful. And the way she snuggled her face into the crook of his neck, almost nuzzling him.

He almost stumbled down the stairs when he felt her lips against his neck, not kissing, merely touching, but it sent a jolt through his body – while at the same time, he realised that he could not let this happen. Once before, they had done something stupid while one of them was shocked and in despair. He couldn't let this happen a second time.

Even though – somewhere inside, he knew he longed for her warmth, for her closeness, for, yes, for her body. For her lips on his and her hands inside his shirt and trousers and everywhere, her legs around him. Somewhere, somewhere deep inside, her image had pushed back that of Lily. Or overshadowed hers. He wasn't sure but Tizzy was the first thing he longed to see in the morning, not Lily.

Oh but that was wrong. That was so very wrong. He loved Lily. Lily was the one person he had done all this for. Lily was – the one he had always wanted to be with, that much had always been sure. The one steady thing in his life. But suddenly, carrying Tizzy down to the dungeons, he wasn't so sure about that any more.

He unwarded his rooms, her not stirring one iota in his arms, not her lips on his neck, not her arms around it. Nothing. She just let herself be carried, her eyes probably closed. Trusting him. Trusting him to bring her safely to – anywhere. She trusted him.

She trusted him.

She had run to him the moment she had seen him, had clung to him, and now she let him carry her. This kind of trust, no, he did not know it, he had never experienced it.

People were suspicious of him, people shrank away from him, people did not let him close. But she did. Mind blowing. Truly mind blowing.

He looked around in his living room. Maybe, he thought, he should just put her on the couch and get the house elves to bring some tea. Or maybe some firewhiskey wouldn't harm her.

She whispered something, and to his ears, oddly enough, it sounded like, "Need you." Might have been something different. Might have just his ears playing a trick on him and he moved to the couch and bent down to put her there.

He truly wanted to but she clung to his neck, his arms never releasing him. "No," she whispered. "Sit."

Severus was very, very surprised. She wanted to be on his lap? It couldn't be. It just couldn't. Nobody wanted to be on his lap. Nobody needed his closeness. He couldn't possibly provide the same warmth he gave her. He was a cold person, a horrible person.

"Please," she whispered again and slowly, she moved her head to look at him. "Please, Severus, it was terrible. Just let me be near. Please."

His eyes widened a friction. She did. She wanted to be near. Near him. Still. Or again. With difficulty since she still clung to him, he sat down on the couch and she, immediately, got comfortable on his lap, her legs across the couch, her arms around him, her head on his chest.

"I didn't know what to do. They were just screaming and screaming. It was terrible," she spoke barely above a whisper, "I just sat in Poppy's office, and there was suddenly a kind of alarm. Like from a Muggle alarm clock. One of those Alb has, and I went to look. At first I thought it was some kind of joke because there wasn't anyone and I was about to get back to Poppy's office when they landed on the floor and it was so much noise. I don't think I've heard it before. The year before last, Hagrid had to kill a Hippogriff because it was hurt and that screamed in pain too but this was worse. They just lay there and weren't still at all. Like throwing themselves from left to right and back again and it was terrible. I didn't know what to do because Poppy said never to cast a spell on someone when you're not sure what it is because it might do more harm but I wanted them to be quiet. It's still ringing in my ears. There was blood, too. And from their nostrils and even from the mouth and froth and...," she had to take a deep breath and was trembling in his arms.

He knew what it was. Cruciatus. Excessively. Had heard of it. Bellatrix Black had an affinity for it. He could only imagine how bad it must have been. Most just gave into the pain before, just ran from it – into death. Apparently not those two.

"Shh," he whispered before he could stop himself. He had never acted this way. Had never wanted to.

"It was terrible, Severus," she said choked.

"I know," he replied.

"I can't do this," she seemed to fight her crying again and she looked so – endearing – in that moment. Slowly, he brought his hand up from where it had miraculously rested on her hip (and as he looked down, his other hand was on her stomach. How had it got there?) to her face and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and it was feeling lovely underneath this fingers.

"You can," he replied.

She looked at him, astonished, surprised, maybe, and her breathing seemed to hitch in her throat. "Thank you," she said before she fixed her eyes on his and her face seemed to be coming nearer to his, very near, her eyes the only thing he could see and then they came nearer and nearer and he had to close his eyes – had to – and a heartbeat later, he lips, just like that, were on his and she kissed him. Tenderly. Slowly. Her lips parting. Her tongue parting his. Sweeping into his mouth and he could not remember her tasting so sweet. Her fingers on his neck, stroking, caressing. And he kissed back – just kissed back.

xx

Poppy wiped her forehead with her sleeve, swallowing convulsively. Minerva stumbled out of the fireplace a moment later, just as pale, just as shocked and just as speechless.

A moment later, Albus arrived in the Infirmary as well and he looked tired and very, very exhausted. He walked straight towards Lasse and the Swede smiled at him before he gave Albus a very brief hug.

"Albus?" Minerva asked, tiredly. "Did they catch them all?"

"Yes," he replied. "They've all been brought to Azkaban already."

"They have a boy," Minerva said suddenly. "Neville. Is he...?"

"He was with his grandmother," he scratched his eyebrow. "Luckily. The boy is fine and Augusta is fine. Apparently, thry were both on duty. Patrolled on Diagon Alley. Followed a trap laid by Lestrange and were lured into Knockturn. Bellatrix and the others waited there for them. She admitted to have tortured them. She wanted to know where we kept Voldemort."

"Oh no," Poppy whispered.

"Yes. But as bad as this is, it seems those are the last ones," he smiled weakly. "Or the last known ones. From those that have not pledged the Imperius Curse. Will they be alright?"

Poppy had to swallow around the lump in her throat. "No," she said softly. "Probably not."

"It was a miracle they withstood that so long and survived the portkey," Minerva added, sad. "And the flooing did not make it any better either. The healers in St Mungo's could only give them pain potions. No spells otherwise the damage might even be worse."

"What will happen then?" Albus asked, and Poppy saw that Lasse had taken the man's hand behind his back.

"They have probably, literally, lost their minds," Poppy said voicelessly and – she had to leave. Had to take, maybe, half a dose of Dreamless Sleep. The screams echoed in her head and the images of those two did not leave her. She nodded towards them. "I have to...," she stopped herself, her eyes, briefly, widening. "Where's Tizzy?"

"Severus takes care of her," Lasse informed her and she knew that Minerva stiffened beside her.

"Leave her be," Poppy told her, "He will take good care of her."

xx

He felt wonderful and he was a brilliant kisser once he took his time. Not as urgent as the last time. It was slowly and deeply and – almost lovingly. She needed this. Needed him. And he was there. He had carried her down to his rooms and while she was aware of him taking her somewhere, it was the sensation of him holding her so tightly and being so careful with her. Carrying her as if she was a treasure. He had let her be. Had let her sit on his lap and so tenderly, he had touched her – his hands on her stomach and on her hip, gently caressing – even though it had probably been absently.

And this kissing was – divine. She could probably keep doing this for hours and hours if there hadn't been that heat in her body and if her fingers hadn't developed a life of their own and had begun to move to the buttons on his frock coat and she just undid them. One, two, three and at the fourth – he pulled away, staring at her wild-eyed.

"Erm," she said and he pushed her off his lap and stood up, breathing rapidly, shaking his head.

"No," he said. "No. We've done this before and it wasn't a good idea. It won't be a good idea now."

Her face fell, her insides squeezed together and released a moment later, causing a terrible pain in her stomach, in her middle. He didn't want her. She had – again – done the wrong thing. He didn't want her.

She drew a shaky breath, something snapping, or breaking, inside of her and she glared. Glared as she had never glared before. Glaring was better than crying. Anger was better than sadness. And she had already cried enough for one day.

And he didn't want her. She got up, quickly, and moved towards the door. Couldn't keep quiet. Not this time. She took a deep breath.

"I...you know," she began, her voice trembling, "I can't see you any more. I thought I could. I actually told myself that I could be friends with you. But I can't. I'm in too deep already and can't stop it. Can't help it that I'm in love with you and the only way I can deal with it is to stay away. I want to be near and want to hold you and...but I can't."

She took a last look at him and with her head held high, strode towards the door, grabbed the handle, when she was grabbed by the shoulder and spun around.

_**xx **_

_**Thank you for reading and please don't forget to review.**_

_**Oh, and please forgive the cliffie – which I had not planned on at first but wrote specifically for Viva Palestina xD**_


	36. Chapter 36

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**xx **_

She was in love with him.

Tizzy was in love with him. She had said so. Just seconds ago. "I can't see you any more. I thought I could. I actually told myself that I could be friends with you. But I can't. I'm in too deep already and can't stop it. Can't help it that I'm in love with you and the only way I can deal with it is to stay away. I want to be near and want to hold you and...but I can't." She had said that. All of that. Without taking a breath.

And now she turned to leave. She wanted to leave. How could she say something like that and then leaving? She couldn't leave. He did not want to not see her any more. Didn't want her to stay away from him. He wanted to be near. He did want to be near.

He hurried to be behind her and grasped her shoulder and spun her around. No, he didn't know what he felt and what to tell her. He didn't know what he felt himself. He couldn't honestly say that he was in love with her. He didn't know. He just didn't know.

But he was so sure that he did not want her to leave. He wanted to be close to her and if he was being honest, he did want to continue kissing her. She was an amazing kisser, very tenderly and very carefully and very lovely, her mouth tasting so sweet and so familiar and comfortable. Kissing her was comfortable. Kissing her felt like something he wanted to do. Often.

And he didn't understand why.

But he couldn't let her go. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and tired.

"Don't go," he whispered and held her upper arm with one hand, her hand with the other. He couldn't let her run away like this.

"Severus," she whispered. "Don't make this so hard."

"I don't want to make it hard for you, Tizzy," he whispered back, his voice steadier than he felt. He liked to plan what he said, he liked to think about what he said. But he couldn't. Not this time. He had to keep her there. Under any circumstances. "I don't want you to go."

"I can't stay," she replied and tried to wrest her hand free from him.

"I don't know what I feel for you," he explained. "I don't know what it is. I don't know what I'm feeling about anything at all at the moment but I know for sure that I don't want you to leave. I don't want you to stay away from me. I like having you around. I've never said anything like this to anyone. I don't know if I ever will again and I don't even know if I'm doing this right but I don't want you to go."

Tizzy looked deeper into his eyes, her forehead laid in little wrinkles, her eyebrows drawn together. "What?" she asked, voicelessly.

"Don't go," he told her again. "I'm not used to this. I can't express my feelings. I don't know how to. I don't know what this is but...don't go."

"Severus...I..."

She'd leave. If he didn't say anything, if he didn't tell her that he wanted her closer, still, wanted to see her often, wanted to spend time with her. And the thought he had earlier, the one thought, manifested in his mind again but he couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell that she was the first thing he wanted to see in the morning. But maybe...maybe he could tell her something else. He had to. Otherwise – he couldn't let her walk out.

"When you're near, I'm not cold," he heard himself say, not knowing how to express it any better. "And I'm otherwise always cold."

Her eyes softened, moistened. "So we can..."

"I want to try this," he said, his voice steady. "I never have. I don't have any experience with that kind of feeling. But I need you around me."

xx

She was, quite simply put, dumbstruck. She did not know what to say and more importantly, had not quite understood what he meant to tell her. So much was clear: he did not want her to leave. He wanted her by him and if she interpreted this last sentence correctly, he was maybe, probably, referring to a relationship. But she wasn't sure. She didn't quite understand.

Or did he just want to use her? Replace her for that awful Lily person? But the urgency with which he had spoken, it was odd and somewhat remarkable.

And he had said I need _you_ around me. Not _I_ need you around me. And not I _need_ you around me. Which was odd as well. Did he want to imply that it was truly her and not that Lily Potter? Not anyone else?

If she put all this together, the fabulous kissing, the holding back, the things he had said, and the fact that he still held on to her hand, tightly, his thumb, by the way, rubbing against her palm, she might even believe it. And he had, just hours ago, held her hand during dinner. Had sprinted to her to hold her when that had happened in the Infirmary. He had carried her down to the dungeons.

But he had also said that they could never do _that_ any more. And that didn't go together.

"But you said earlier that we can't do, you know, this any more because it was wrong before," she said quietly, her eyes drawn to his chest, to the four open buttons, showing the white shirt underneath. "I don't understand."

He took a deep breath. "In this situation, you silly woman. Not in general. You're distressed. You've had a shock. That's what I meant."

"That's what you meant," she told herself. "Because I...and you...huh," she exhaled sharply, realisation dawning on her. "Because you thought that...you stopped. Not because you don't want to but because...oh Merlin," she clapped her hand to her mouth. "Because you thought that I might not think clearly. That's why you...and that's why you said that..." she began to laugh helplessly. She had just bared her innermost feelings because of a misunderstanding. She had just told him she was in love with him, had just made him tell her all kinds of things because she had misunderstood him? Because he – he did not want to hurt her. That was why he had stopped. He had not gone through with it because he was considerate.

"Why are you laughing?" he asked, suddenly testily.

"I'm so stupid, Severus," she still laughed, the pressure, the hurt, the pain, all gone. He wanted to try. And he truly meant it if he didn't just use her for random sex. If he was considerate enough to wonder, to care about her feelings.

"Well, I can see that," he said, his voice cold and she felt her hand falling to her side, and him not holding it any more. No, he could not possibly think she was laughing about him now, could he? He turned away from her and took three steps away from her before the laughter died in her throat and she followed him, tugging on his sleeve, making him turn towards her again.

"Severus, I'm stupid because I misunderstood you. Because I thought you did not want to _ever_ do that with me again, when you're actually just being terribly considerate and lovely."

It was his turn to stare at her with his mouth open and his eyes wide. He seemed to fight for something – words, probably and she knew she could make this easier. Tizzy smiled gently and without waiting for a sign, or an invitation, she wrapped her arms around him. "In case I didn't make it clear earlier," she whispered, her chin on his chest, "I do want to be with you too. I do want to try this too. And I'm quite inexperienced either."

xx

It was too fast. First she told him she was in love with him, then she made him tell her things he had never told anyone before, let alone considered telling anyone, then it turned out to be all a great, big misunderstanding, and then she laughed before she told him that she too wanted to try this. Whatever it was.

And at her words, despite the chaos in his head, warmth blossomed in his chest. Heat, almost, but the nice kind of heat, not the one that burned but the one that kept warm for hours. She too wanted to try this. Her hands, so innocent looking, were at his neck again and her fingers touched the soft skin underneath his hair, tracing circles, drawing patterns and her eyes never left his.

"What you said about the warmth," she said a moment later, "I feel the same way."

What chance did he have at those words? He had never had a conversation like this before and while he did not long for another one like it quite so soon, somehow, it changed him. Something inside of Severus flipped, turned around, snapped. Something he had never thought to see flipped, turned around, snapped. It was almost like he felt a weight being lifted off him and he bent down, his arms sneaking around her waist, and he just couldn't help kissing her.

Her lips looked so inviting, so wonderfully soft, so kissable and her fingers on his neck did wonderful things, just by moving slowly and gently, to ease the pressure on it, to take away the pain he felt there sometimes, and as she kissed back, he did not even remember ever having felt pain before, or sorrow. Or anything. Tizzy was in love with him.

In love with him.

Tizzy was in love with him and kissed him with fervour and passion and tenderness. His hands roamed her back, touching her everywhere he could and would and a moment later, he felt something solid against his calves and fell down on his couch again, her on top of him, on his lap, kissing, just kissing and Severus was ever so glad that she kept her hands away from his buttons otherwise he knew he'd be lost and would not quite be able to hold back this time.

xx

"Hmpfgrrml," Tizzy mumbled, her head on something solid but lovely smelling and wonderfully comfortable.

"Hm?" a voice, a voice she had wanted to hear, replied.

"Severus?" she asked, shifting up slightly, observing her position. She lay half on him, half on his couch, on her stomach and one of her legs between his while her head had rested on his chest. Severus had one arm around her, the other resting on her hip.

"Hm?" he asked again, probably still half asleep.

"I think I should go home, Mum will probably be worried," she explained and smiled. They had snogged for hours, or so it had seemed, the night before. And then she had sort of snuggled up to him, always thinking that she really should be getting home but never wanting to. And so she had fallen asleep on him or against him and he must have done the same. And he looked so sweet when he slept. Quite unaware of the world around him, quite peaceful, very, very handsome in Tizzy's eyes. She stretched a little on him, quite aware of what she was rubbing her leg against, and pressed a kiss on his lip. "Severus, I'll go home now."

"What?" he asked, blinking.

"Not a morning person then," she chuckled. "We fell asleep on the couch and I think I should be getting home before Mum gets kittens."

He sat up – at those words – rapidly. He looked almost afraid.

"No, Severus, please don't worry. She won't ask too much and she'll be fine. Lasse must have informed her that you took care of me and she likes you. Don't look like that, please?"

He groaned again – confused, probably, this time. "Erm," she muttered as she disentangled herself from him. "Will you be at lunch or will this now get a little awkward?" she asked as she straightened her clothes and while she had expected a lot of things to happen, she had not quite expected him shooting up the couch like a lightning bolt and enveloping her in his arms and hugging her so tightly. No, this, Tisiphone had not expected at all – but at least it gave her a sign. A clear, concise sign. No awkwardness.

"Lunch," he mumbled into her ear before he released her and she could leave to face the anger of her mother for staying out all night long.

_**xx **_

_**I know it's not my best chappy but I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long. Review anyhow?**_


	37. Chapter 37

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx **_

"And where were you last night, young lady?" Mum had her fists on her hips, her mouth set in the stern line, her eyebrows drawn together and Tizzy felt immediately, well, bad. Almost like a little girl who had done something explicitly forbidden. Almost like the time when she had gotten into a tiny fight with Peeves back when she had been home for the summer when she had been 12. Seriously, it had only been a few dungbombs, nothing too serious and the castle had been empty but Mum had looked the same way back then and Tizzy wasn't sure which route to take.

Either the I'm-not-telling-you-route or the I-was-with-Severus-and-he-makes-me-happy-so-leave-us-be-route.

"Nowhere," she said and tried to get past her, into her room, changing her clothes at least. She couldn't very well go into the Infirmary in yesterday's robes. And she needed fresh underwear.

"Tisiphone," her Mother said threateningly. "You did not sleep here, you still wear the robes you wore last night in the Infirmary and I want to know where you were."

"Nowhere," she repeated. "And you know where I was anyway, don't you?"

"No, I don't know. All I know is that you weren't here and that I was worried about you."

Tizzy rolled her eyes and sighed. She should not really have been worried, she had suspected Lasse of telling her that she was fine. He should have told her anyway. But then again, she could have sent a house elf for her. Or a ghost. They usually found her.

"I was with Severus," she mumbled. "And that's all you're getting." She pushed herself past her Mother and tried to reach her door before she could ward it or close it but she was a moment, just a tad, too late. "Mum, please. I need to get to the Infirmary."

"She can wait for ten minutes. What does it mean, you were with Severus?"

"I was with Severus. I fell asleep on his couch. He...urgh, Mum, really. He comforted me, he took care of me. He helped me. I needed him. I couldn't get the screams out of my head and he was just there for me when I needed a friend and I fell asleep on his couch because I was so exhausted." It was a lie – minor lie. Little white lie. Or maybe not. She had been exhausted.

"He hurt you before," Mum said quietly and Tizzy looked up, surprised and astonished. That was true. Very true. But she knew that he wouldn't now. Or, at least, wouldn't want to. Had said so. More or less. And she could deal with unintentional hurt. Probably.

"I know," she replied, biting her lip, "but...Dad hurt you a lot of times. And you're still with him. I don't even say that I'm with Severus. I slept on his couch. That's all. If you don't believe me, ask Alb to Legilimense me. He will tell you," she continued, angrily.

"Tizzy," Mum said softly, "I don't want you to be hurt again. That's all."

"Yeah, I know," she answered. "Can I now please get changed and go to work?"

Mother nodded, stepped aside and cancelled the wards on her door and Tizzy swept past her – and only heard her mutter, "Be careful."

She shook her head to herself. She would be careful. But she wanted to be with him. And as such, she would have to take the risk. The risk of getting hurt, the risk of getting her heart broken again, the risk of being disappointed. But she didn't want to think about the risks now. She only wanted to be with him for the time being and they way she saw it, the way he had hugged her before she left, he probably felt something quite similar.

xx

He wasn't sure if he wanted to smile or not. Apart from everything, this had been Minerva McGonagall's daughter who had just left his quarters – and who had slept on his couch. And on him. The crick in his neck could attest for that. And it had been lovely and definitely worthy a smile. Or maybe even two. Soft, warm Tizzy in his arms, her head on his chest and her leg rubbing against – well, that.

On the other hand, he had a class of sixth years coming in and he rather disliked them. He would have to do something about it. For an advanced class, and about to take their NEWTs the year after, they were ill-prepared. Three-quarters of them would not pass their potions NEWT. And instead of studying hard and trying to improve themselves, they were not paying attention at all.

He would have to ask the Old Man, the Headmaster, if he could reduce the size of that particular class. 24 students were simply too much for such advanced coursework. He remembered from his own time there that Slughorn had allowed those with an Outstanding and an Exceeds Expectations in their OWLs in and if he could reduce it to those who had earned an Outstanding, the class size would be smaller and the students better. He would talk to him. Immediately after lunch. Lunch with Tizzy.

Alright, so he couldn't help the smile. Tizzy was absolutely breath-takingly lovely and he wanted to see her again. Soon. And often. He marvelled at himself – for not even an ounce of guilt towards Lily. A week ago, he would have. And now, it was only a sort of faint regret. Regret that he had made that one mistake, regret that she had not forgiven him. But he knew that there was nothing to be done. He knew she was fading in his mind, in his memory. And he felt only a stab of regret about that.

xx

She saw him cast the charm on them. It was a modified notice-me-not-charm and it worked only on their hands, lying entwined on her thigh. His thumb was gently caressing her palm and from time to time, she couldn't help but glance at him and made no real effort to hide her smile. Just for the record, she had not taken his hand. He had taken hers. She had been a bit, well, careful, since Mum kept a steady eye on them.

Well, she truly did. Until that moment when Severus had turned to her more fully, and she had smiled at him and he had smiled back. A tiny, little, tentative smile, nothing that would count for a lot on another person's face but for Severus, this was huge. And at that moment, Mum stopped sending them suspicious glares and Tizzy was glad. This – her almost benign look was as good as her approval and she could focus back on Severus.

"Are you, erm, doing anything tonight?" she asked hesitantly but kept her gaze fixed on him.

"Didn't your Mother give your trouble?" he asked, concern in his voice.

Tizzy shrugged and brushed her thumb over his hand. "Normal, I suppose. She just wanted to know where I was."

"And you told her?" he asked again.

"I told her that I was emotionally charged and that I was exhausted and that I slept on your couch."

"You did...what?"

She smiled. "She only looks so stern. Trust me, I know she seems scary but she trusts me. And I trust you, Severus. She won't give you any trouble."

"What makes you so sure about that?" his features darkened.

"Because she loves me and because you, erm," she blushed, "because you make me happy. And when all's said and done, she wants me happy. I know that."

He stared at her as if that concept was completely foreign to him and just sat in silence, his eyes flitting to her Mum.

"So? Are you doing anything tonight?"

"Grading," he replied, shocked, probably, into not saying more. But she had said the truth. Mum would come around. She would eventually understand. And if she had to enlist Poppy's help. Which she doubted she would have to.

"Er, do you think I could come down? For an hour or so?" she asked, blushing again.

"I'd like that," he replied and wore that lovely little smile.

xx

"Minerva," Poppy said, her voice as even as she could keep it. But honestly – there they witnessed two young people, obviously very fond of each other and Minerva did nothing but glare at them.

"What?" she snapped. "She stayed all night with him."

"So?" Poppy arched her eyebrows, "Be happy for her and for him."

"He hurt her, Poppy. You saw what she looked like before."

"Is that your only argument? Because if it is, then you can stop glaring because I remember a certain young woman, not much older than Tizzy is now, who came to me because the man she was in love with had pushed her away for the second time because she was so young and he was rather old already and he had not yet come to terms with the fact that the woman was perfect for him."

"It was different," Minerva huffed.

"It wasn't. And I don't want to see her hurt either but look at her now. Look at them," she elbowed her friend in the ribs, and made her look over at the two of them, Tizzy and Severus, sharing a smile between them. "Look at them and think about it, Minerva. He could make her as happy as Aberforth has made you. After he hurt you," she paused for a moment and watched the other woman. And at that, Minerva harrumphed and her features softened. Not quite a smile yet but almost there.

Poppy smiled secretly, knew she did not have to resort to blackmail. Would not have to threaten Minerva with letting those two meet in secret. Would not have to threaten her with her daughter eventually lying to her.

xx

The afternoon went by quickly for Severus. He had been able to talk briefly to the Headmaster and he said his classes were his business and that he should just try things. He had, more or less, a free hand, apparently, in how he taught. Had even been allowed to test the sixth years for their ability and would be able to sort them accordingly. Even throw students out – after giving them a chance (that, the Old Man had emphasised).

But now, he was sitting in his office after dinner and while he had seen her during it, he truly wanted to see her on his own. Being alone with her. More than holding hands, he had not dared and he felt the coldness of the dungeons seeping back into his body and the only thing, the only being, who could keep it at bay was her. Her. Couldn't explain. Didn't want to.

Time crawled slowly now – but he knew it was only because he kept looking at his watch. It seemed a natural law and so far in Severus's life, he had never been more impatient. The feeling was frightening and unknown, but not entirely uncomfortable. He tried to focus on his grading, tried to pay attention to the homework his students had handed in but on the one hand, it was utterly dreadful, on the other hand, he could not wait to see her. At all. Frightening.

He looked up immediately, immediately said 'Come in' when there was a knock on the door.

xx

Tizzy tried to be really, really quiet. She had actually thought she could sneak past her Mum and Dad. And she probably would have managed, thinking she could later just sent probably the Bloody Baron, or Nearly Headless Nick up to let them know she was fine, or maybe her Patronus would do, if, yes, if Alb and his, well, boyfriend hadn't come for an impromptu visit. That made Dad look anywhere but her Uncle and that, in turn, made Mum notice a lot more things.

"Where are you going?" Mum asked sharply and Tizzy only groaned.

"I'm waiting," her Mother tapped her foot on the ground, her eyes set on her.

"I'm going to Severus," she said defiantly.

"Why him?" Dad asked, as Albus's features shifted, and his usual smiley twinkle disappeared and made room for a rather unusual pensive, well, almost scowl.

"Because I want to," she shrugged a shoulder.

"Tisiphone...," her Mother sighed.

"Mum, Dad, please. I'm not a baby any more. It's not even eight yet. Even the students are allowed to go where they want to go in the castle and I'm not?"

"Why him?" Dad asked again and Tizzy had to groan again.

"Because I want to spend time with him. Because I want to be with him and he wants to be with me. We want to spend time together."

"You what?" her Father thundered.

"You what?" Alb said at the same time, and it would have been almost comical – if she hadn't really just wanted to leave.

"Aberforth, Albus," Mum interrupted before he could explode and shot her daughter a look.

Tizzy couldn't quite fathom it. Did it mean that she had actually now switched to her side? Did it mean that she was okay with it? Almost felt like it. Her eyes seemed a little kinder and the lines had softened.

"Go. But..."

Tizzy nodded – surprised. "I'll let you know if it gets late," she replied quickly before she ran from their home, only hearing a bellow from Dad but could not make out the words. She gathered her skirts together and just hoped that Severus was not somehow scared because she was rather late.

xx

"She's in love with him," Minerva sighed. "And she's right. She's not a baby any more. She's almost 19." She watched Aberforth, then her eyes flitted to Albus. Her brother-in-law seemed not amused. Not at all. "What's it to you?" she asked, suspicious.

"You cannot be serious," the Swede, who had held himself back until now, muttered.

"Severus is not good for Tizzy," Albus said coldly.

"Why not?" Aberforth said and surprised Minerva. But then again, it was clear that he wanted his daughter happy. And that he would automatically take the opposition of his brother. "He worked hard for our side. He risked his life and when my daughter wants to be with him and he wants to be with her, then there is nothing you can do about it. And won't do about it." He got up, bent down to kiss Minerva and disappeared into their bedroom (and probably from there, Minerva thought, to the Hog's Head or outside somewhere. Was a miracle that he had stayed so long with Albus being there anyway).

"Why would you say that?" Minerva asked, not as quick as her husband, staring at Albus.

"They cannot be together," Albus shook his head fiercely.

"Why not?" Minerva snapped.

"I have my reasons," he said sharply, throwing Lasse a threatening glance.

"You have your reasons? Keeping secrets again, Albus?" she said angrily. "She's happy with him. And if you don't give me a good reason, a very, very, good reason why he is not good for you, I will not stand in her way and neither will Aberforth."

"I can't give you a reason," he replied icily.

"Fine. And so help me Merlin, Albus, you will leave them alone or you've had a Deputy and a Transfiguration Mistress for the longest time," she threatened.

"I have a reason."

"You vant to use him," Lasse spat. "You vant to use vot he felt and use it for your own purpose. You von't allow your own niece happiness because he's useful." Minerva stared at the man who wore a face like thunder, not quite understanding.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"Nothing. It means nothing," he huffed, then turned to his lover. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know vot I'm talking about. You don't. If he loves Tizzy, senn he vill not be fighting less," he almost shouted. "But I don't sink you understand love. And zat is...," he got up, glaring, nodded towards Minerva and rushed out of her quarters.

"Albus?" she asked, her tone questioning, not in any way sympathetic.

"It's nothing," he replied coldly. "Fine. Let them be happy. Or not. I will not sack Severus just because he and Tisiphone have broken up."

Minerva shook her head, not believing what she had just heard. Lasse, obviously, knew her brother-in-law better than anyone, knew something she did not. "I don't know you any more, Albus," she muttered. "I trust you will find your way out," she said a little louder and crossed the room to get into her bedroom, quite confused about Albus and his behaviour and why he – the one who had always propagandised love – should be against Severus and her daughter.

xx

"Hello," she whispered softly, warding the door to his office quickly and without another word, she had rushed through his office and came to stand next to him.

"Hello," he replied immediately, taking her hand that hung low by his chest. He pulled on it as he pushed the chair a little away from his desk and she landed, just as he had planned, on his lap.

"I'm sorry I'm a bit later than I intended to be," she told him, snuggling to him.

He merely growled, couldn't think of anything to say and turned his head, one of his hands on her thigh, the other going around her and landing on the back of her head, in her hair and quite subconsciously, he pulled out the pins that held her hair up, undid the additional charms she had on it to keep it in place and buried his fingers in the long, dark, soft masses. He pulled her to him, couldn't wait to feel her against him, feel her lips on his and couldn't wait to kiss her. Just be close and feel the warmth returning to his bones. She chuckled lightly and pressed her mouth on his, her fingers stroking his neck and hair and he knew he had never felt better in his life.

He kissed her back fervently, held her, kissed her and this time, he did not push her hands away, did not push her off his lap when she slowly began to open his robes, then his frock coat but just before she could start on his shirt, the coat and robes still on his shoulders, he pulled away and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Tizzy...," he said huskily, knew she could feel what she did to him.

"Yes?" she asked, smiling slightly, her lips a little swollen and red, and she sounded breathless. "Yes." she nodded. She nodded and all he could do at that moment was to hold her to him, to get up, her in his arms, as she had been before and with a flick of his wand, they were both disillusioned and he carried her, through the corridor, through to his private rooms, careful that nobody saw them and heard them.

xx

He carried her, very carefully, disillusioned, through to his rooms, unwarded his door, spoke the password, and stepped and as soon as he had, with her in his arms, warded the door again, she struggled to get down, ignoring his surprised face because a moment later, he had lost that again in any case and she wrapped her arms around his neck as tightly as she could without strangling him, probably, and kissed him passionately. Oh she wanted this. Wanted him to be near.

What was it he had said? She kept him warm when she was around. And she, Tizzy, felt the same way. She was comfortable, almost complete, with him. Felt like herself. Felt real. Felt wonderful and she couldn't wait to push his robes off his shoulders, his frock coat and get started on his shirt. Touch him.

She just hoped that he wouldn't be quite as quick this time. And wouldn't send her away quite so quickly afterwards but those thoughts, everything in her mind was blown away the moment her fingers touched his bare chest, his bare shoulders and the moment he began to untie her robes at the back. The moment she felt his skin against hers her mind was a blank and when he picked her up again, carried her into his bedroom and lay her down on his bed, slowly and gently, she knew that it would be different this time and let herself feel, just feel. Stopped thinking.

xx

He couldn't move. Well, he possibly could but he had absolutely no intention to. She lay there next to him, a sated, happy, exhausted smile on her face and he knew he probably looked exactly the same way. This was the way, he knew to make love to a woman. This was how he should have done it before. They could have avoided a lot then. But no, it had been necessary and she was here now.

Tizzy sighed, smiled, rolled on her side and kissed the corner of his mouth. "'I'll go then," she whispered against his lips.

His face fell slightly. Did she want to go? She had certainly not looked like it a moment ago. She had looked as if she been utterly comfortable. And he didn't want to let her go. She couldn't go. She was his. Couldn't let her go.

Severus had to act fast, he knew, and he rolled over and wrapped his arms around her bare waist as she sat on the edge of the bed. "No," he said, loudly, clearly and shifted over further, kissing her naked back, her soft, warm skin.

"No?" she asked, breathlessly.

"No," he repeated between gentle kisses. "No."

"No," she turned her head and smiled and slowly, sunk back into the bed, into his arms and Severus knew in the moment when her skin connected with his again, when her lips met his and her arms went around him, in the moment when his arms went around her and when he pressed her more fully against him, that he had finally arrived.

_**xx **_

_**Fin**_

_**xx  
**_

_**This, my dear readers, is the end of the story. Well, there will be an epilogue and I have been thinking about a sequel, so I'd very much appreciate it, if you could let me know what you think of the idea. I know I have left plenty of things open and they'd be solved there. **_

_**The epilogue will be up soon, I promise but I want to take the time now to thank all of you, my lovely readers, and my amazing reviewers to take the time and read this little fic. Thank you! I also want to thank the Moewe, itat88 and Alabaster Princess for their constant help and enduring my whining that I'm a rotten writer and that the chapters are rotten as well. Thank you, girls!**_


	38. Chapter 38

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**xx **_

EPILOGUE - May 1st 1998

A dark-cloaked figure ran as fast as possible, covering as much ground as humanly possible, towards the Shrieking Shack. The figure was a blur, feet it seemed, barely touching the ground, and even if someone had paid close attention to the figure, which nobody did since everyone was busy elsewhere, they could have never guessed out who it was, running as possessed to the old, dreary building. As a matter of fact, most of those few people who could have recognised her, thought that this person was far away, was in London, mourning the end of her marriage, mourning the fact that this person had never known her husband, mourning her Uncle whom her husband had killed.

And those who thought so were all wrong. Tisiphone Snape had never lived in London in her entire life. She worked there, yes, occasionally, in St Mungo's but her home, her place of residence had always been Hogwarts. She wasn't mourning the end of her marriage because, well, it wasn't over. Wasn't over at all. On the contrary. Marie was only 4 months old – their little 'accident'. She knew her husband well. The only truth was that she mourned her Uncle, but so was her husband and the word 'killed' wasn't quite precise in that context either.

Mrs Snape ran up the stairs in the Shrieking Shack, not knowing, but praying that she wasn't too late. That he had done everything according to plan. She burst into the room, taken back by the amount of blood on the dirty floor and pale, deadly looking Severus laying in that pool of sticky, red liquid. She fell to her knees beside him, closing her eyes, waving her wand in an intricate pattern over her apparently dead husband's body. She knelt, waited for what seemed like an eternity, until there was a gasping, gurgling sound and she immediately pulled a vial out of her cloak and tipped the entire content into his mouth, then waving her wand over his neck again, working steadily but as quickly as she could and she watched, in fascination and awe and utter happiness, how he began to breathe again, how his wounds closed and how he opened his eyes. Before he could say a word, she wrapped a white cloth around his neck as well in addition to the healing spell, then sat back on her heels and tried to calm herself.

"Tizzy," he mumbled but she only shook her head, tears gleaming in her eyes.

"Why do I always have to fix you, hm?" she asked, very, very relieved that she had managed it this time. A close call, too close for her liking.

"Are you alright?" he asked trying to swallow and closing his eyes in pain.

"I know it hurts. I can't give you anything for the pain."

"I know," he groaned, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Marie?"

"With her Nana Eileen," she replied, ignored his grimace and waved her wand, once more, around, cleaning up the blood he had lain in. Anything to keep busy. Anything not to think about how close she had come to losing him. "This potion was utter genius, Severus."

He groaned again, his fingers searching for the wounds on his neck and fingering the white cloth it had been bandaged with. "Yes. I've been known to be quite brilliant from time to time," he coughed and tried to swallow.

"Mum sends her love and says she's sorry she almost hit you," she smiled, trying to change the subject and holding his hands in hers to keep him from touching his wounds. He would not, she feared, take well to her plan for the side-along apparition. One minutiae of the plan she had changed on her own. Well, he would be furious. But as long as he was alive, she could deal with that.

"Sorry she's almost hit me? She almost killed me," he hissed.

"Yes," she said slowly, stretching the syllable as long as she could, "she's sorry for that too."

"Bloody woman."

"That's mothers-in-law, Severus," she chuckled, wiping a lone tear that had made its way down her cheek away before she bent down and kissed him on the mouth. "I'm so relieved."

"It all worked out according to plan. Though you should not have vanished the blood."

Tizzy rolled her eyes and hugged him as he lay there on the dirty floor. Of course he would have to think it was a mere hug but she had to get him away and quickly. Had to get back to the castle as well without being seen. Still, her husband's safety was more important now. And she knew only one place that he would be utterly safe in. Not Spinner's End as it had been their plan at first, and where he thought he would go. No, she couldn't let him be there on his own. She closed her eyes, focused on the place she wanted to bring him to and with a pop, the Shrieking Shack was empty and nothing showed signs that a horrible attempt to murder Severus Snape had just failed.

"So," a moment later, Tizzy heard the familiar voice of her mother-in-law. "He did use the snake. Idiotic man," she muttered.

"Yes," Tizzy replied, trying not to giggle or laugh from relief and at Severus's horrified face at seeing where he had been taken, "just as my darling husband thought he would. And the idea with the modification of the Juliet-Potion was just ingenious."

"So it was only triggered by the snake-venom? Making you..." Eileen Prince seemed truly astonished.

"Do you still doubt me, or my ability, Mother?" he snapped where leant heavily on his wife.

"No, Severus, I don't," she smiled, "I never have. But you look like you could use a lie-down and some tea."

"No pain potions, Eileen," Tizzy cautioned, "It would interfere with the modified Juliet."

She nodded and rushed away into the kitchen and Tizzy counted to three in her head before Severus, though tired and being put on the couch, after she had taken his shoes off and had put his feet on the couch, began his tirade. "We had a plan, Tisiphone. A clear, concise, working plan. Why did you change it? And to here?"

Tizzy smiled gently. "Because this is safe, this is unplottable. And because your daughter is here. And she and your mother will take care of you as long as I'm gone."

"Gone?" he asked, looking furious. "That was not the plan either."

"I have to," she tried to soothe and sat down by his side on the edge of the couch, her fingers tracing the lines on his face. "You need to rest, it's the only way that will help since the Juliet will do all the Healing. Please, Severus. I need to go back and help Poppy."

"No," he shouted furiously and wanted to get up from where he lay but her hands held him back.

"Be quiet or you'll wake Marie and you rest. You might feel well now but you know it's only the potion. Bloody brilliant Potions Master you are. You stay on this couch," she hissed back. "And I will go back and return here as soon as I can."

She looked at him and swallowing around the lump in her throat, she bent forward, and lay her head gently on his chest. She held on tightly to him, tightly but carefully and he seemed to have stopped fighting for a moment as well. Maybe the exhaustion had taken over. The Juliet-Potion worked in the way that it gave him a short span of time to get himself away after being awoken by someone, her in this instance. But he would feel groggy and tired. On top of all the things he had to do during the past months. She truly wouldn't be surprised if he slept the next few days. And he deserved it.

"I don't want to let you go," he whispered tiredly, kissing her fingers.

"I know but I have to. I return as soon as I can and I'm safe in the Infirmary."

"If he wins..."

"Then I will come back as soon as possible and we'll think of something new. But he won't. He won't, Severus," she pushed herself up slightly before she lowered her head to his, kissing him fiercely and he wrapped his arms tightly around herself, clearly not wanting to let her go.

"If you stop that snogging now, someone's here to say hello to Mummy and Daddy," Eileen interrupted. "Honestly, you're not twenty any more," she added good naturedly and when Tizzy extracted herself from her husband, struggling from the grip he had on her, she saw her mother-in-law with her baby on her arm. She jumped up from the couch and took her daughter, cuddling her to her chest, kissing her and the baby kept smiling and gurgling, smelling so good. Oh, Marie there made her want to stay and hide with Severus and Eileen but she knew she couldn't.

"Here," she smiled and put the girl on Severus's chest and had to bit her lip when she saw how tenderly he encircled the little one's body with his arms, holding her to him, kissing her head and for a minute or so, he only observed his daughter the way he always did – with wonder in his eyes, with the utmost happiness and joy and she knew he would be fine there. And he would stay on that couch as long as he had Marie with him.

"They're very sweet," Eileen muttered in her direction.

"They are," Tizzy replied sadly. "I have to go back."

"I'll open the floo for a moment," she nodded. Tizzy nodded and her eyes met Severus's and she smiled. Loved this man, loved this little girl, loved both of them more than anything else in the world. She pressed her lips together for a moment before she walked over and silently kissed her baby and her husband.

xx

"Severus? Severus!" there was a weight on his chest and something insistently pushing his shoulder. He must have dropped off and opened his eyes blearily.

"What?" he asked and the wound on his neck throbbed horribly. He knew somewhere in his mind that it had to be that way, that it would heal and that he had to go through it. Had to endure it and it was all made simpler when his eyes fell on the little girl sleeping on his chest. But Marie with her four months could not possibly push against his shoulder that way and the memory came rushing back. He was at Mother's house. He had, so far, survived. His and Tizzy's plan had worked. Had given Potter parts of his memory. Had seemingly died. Had quite expected the the venom to react quite so quickly with the Juliet-Potion but Tizzy had been in time. His lovely, lovely wife.

But – she had gone back. And now his mother woke him with a strange expression on her face. "What?" he snapped again, and hushed himself immediately when Marie on his chest stirred.

"It's over, Severus," she said shakily.

"What's over?"

"The war. Potter killed him."

He stared at his mother in utter disbelief, then sat up, Marie pressed against his chest. "Say that again," he said voicelessly.

"Potter killed him. He's gone. Forever. Completely destroyed. The war's over," she repeated, tears springing to her eyes.

"Tisiphone...," Severus asked.

"Tiz is fine. She sent the message through. She's fine and she will be over in a moment just has some work to do," Eileen smiled at him, as he made a strangled sound, Marie on his chest stirring again, sitting there, thoughts upside down in his head. Over. Finally. Over. He could stop playing hide and seek with his family. He could take Marie out and show her the Lake and everything. He could stop being Headmaster. Did not have to stand the mock glares of Minerva. None of them would have to play-act any more. He could now at least openly bicker with his mother-in-law and not only try and stare her down.

"And she told me to remind you to lie down. And I have her permission to stick you to the couch. She said hexing would not interfere with the potion," the smile turned into a grin. "I have no doubt that she will have my head if you don't get a hundred percent well again."

Slowly, Marie was looking at him with her dark blue eyes and blinked before she smilingly pushed her head against his chest, snuggling on to him, and he lowered himself with his daughter back on the couch. He cuddled her close, kissed her and when he noticed his mother leaving again, he didn't know where, he held her up a bit, kissed her, let her put her head against the good side of his neck and sighed deeply.

"Daddy's still alive, Marie. Didn't think I would survive. And your Mummy too. He's gone and we're still here, I can't believe it. It worked. And you'll grow up in a world without war if I have anything to say about it. Maybe we'll have to move away. I don't know yet but when your Nana Minnie is Headmistress, I doubt I want to teach there. But it's your Mummy's home and it's been my home for such a long time. And even if there is no danger, Hogwarts is the safest place anywhere on earth and I want you growing up in a safe place. Now that I can actually see you growing up. I can see you growing up, Marie. I never thought this would happen. Can you believe I was angry at your Mummy when she said she was pregnant with you? We had a huge fight, baby, she said she didn't care, she wanted something from me in case I didn't survive and both of us thought that there was a massive chance that I wouldn't. You're really lucky that you still have your Daddy and I'm lucky I have you and your Mummy made me see what a great thing a baby is. It was probably the greatest day of my life when you arrived. And now I'm still here. I can still...," words failed him now and he had to hug his baby tightly to him, buried his nose in the soft, lovely-smelling baby hair, breathed in her scent, baby powder and milk and a full nappy.

"Mother?" he growled very softly so his mother would not hear him at all. "May I get up to change my daughter's nappy? No answer? Good then," he pushed himself up, ignoring the blinding headache and throbbing of his wounds as well as the dizziness and wanted to get up.

"Lie back down," his mother stepped into the room and glared menacingly. "Now!"

"Marie needs a fresh nappy and you wouldn't answer," he said petulantly.

"You should have shouted then," she said no-nonsensically and took the girl from his arms. "Lie down now."

He grabbed his head. It would probably be better, yes. He sank down onto the cushions and closed his eyes tiredly. As brilliant as the potion had worked, he would have to make modifications to make the effects quicker, to make the healing quicker.

After he had taken a nap.

xx

"Is he okay?" Tisiphone said urgently, her feet half in the fireplace still.

"Yes. He's sleeping," Eileen smiled, the baby suckling happily on a bottle in her arms.

Tizzy nodded, relieved and overwhelmed, exhausted, happy. Happy beyond belief. She rushed over to her mother-in-law, hugged her and her baby. "It's over, Eileen, it's really over. I saw Harry and he's well. They're all well, Eileen. There are some that didn't make it and some that are wounded but it's over," tears began pouring down her cheeks. "It's finally over," she sobbed, muffled into her mother-in-law's shoulder.

"Yes, it's over," she whispered back and kissed her hair. "Now, why don't you go into the living room and look after him? I'll bring Marie in as soon as she's fed."

Tizzy nodded, wiped her tears away as best as she could and darted into the living room, enlarged the couch and lay down next to her husband, careful of his wounds cuddling him, holding him. Revelling in the feeling that this was not the dream, that this was real. That the war was over, finally, and that she was in the arms of her snoring husband. Life could be good again soon. Very, very soon.

xx

"Where is he?" he heard, muffled, far away and his long nose picked up a scent. A scent he knew well and he opened his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Did you sleep well?" his wife said gently, in his arms, there. On the couch. In his mother's living room. Tizzy. There.

He grumbled and immediately wrapped his arms around her. "Are you alright?" he asked, pulling her closer, sniffing her hair.

"I'm fine. Tired but fine."

He sighed. "Tell me what happened."

Tizzy shook her head. "There's not much to tell, Severus. I was in the Infirmary, did as much as I could and suddenly, there were cries and..."

"There you are. Silly boy," Minerva stormed into the living room, her hair dishevelled and her robes dirty. "Are you alright? Couldn't have moved in the way we planned, could you? I almost killed you."

"Your aim was always a little off," he dead-panned with a smirk and made his mother-in-law huff. "Could we go home?" he asked his wife who only smirked back when Eileen put the baby back on his chest.

"No. I have a salve for your neck simmering in the kitchen and you will continue to rest," Eileen said gently, before she turned to Minerva and both women glared for a moment at one another before they hugged each other fiercely.

Severus huffed and looked first at his baby, then his wife, then his mother-in-law and mother, hugged his wife and his daughter.

"We made it, Severus," he heard Tisiphone speak in his ear and he could only nod, pull his two girls close and sniffed their scent.

Severus Snape knew that no dream could ever be as good as this. Even if his mother and mother-in-law had already begun fighting again and Tizzy was giggling into his ear and Marie was beginning to cry. Nothing could be better.

_**xx**_

_**Thank you!**_


End file.
